


Soulmates

by comixandco



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Sixth Year, I mean, Like Really Heavily, Minor Character Death, as I paste it through I'm going to try and rephrase some of the words, at points i copied directly from the text, but idk, heavily based around cannon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 29,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2458460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comixandco/pseuds/comixandco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Hermione Granger's spirit is separated from her body, she is left hopeless. Voldemort's forces are rising, Harry is in danger, and she needs to get back to help him, but nobody can see her. Nobody, that is, but the arrogant, prat-like pureblood Draco Malfoy, who in turn has his own sinister task that he must carry out... (re-uploaded from ff.net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_If I could have one wish, it would just be this, I could take you to my soul and show you all the love there is._ ~Chely Wright

Madam Pince quickly surveyed the school library one more time before she locked up. The room was deadly quiet and the torches’ flames were dim, she would cast _nox_ on them soon; the large room was empty and there was a floating book above one of the tables. Everything was fine and normal… she hastily did a double take in shock.

There was a book floating above a table.  
There was _a book_ floating above the table.

Gingerly, Madame Pince approached the table. Nothing was near the book to explain why it would be floating. Unless… unless the person holding the book was invisible? Rumour had it Potter was able to make himself invisible somehow, so Severus Snape, the Potions Master said. Slowly, she waved her hands through the seemingly still air around the book. Nothing was there. The book jerked a little in the air, as if the person holding it had winced.

Madame Pince gasped sharply, before telling herself to calm down. This wasn’t _so_ out of the ordinary… she worked at Hogwarts library, and it was common knowledge that Hogwarts was the home to many a ghost. Madam Pince was not afraid of them, and she knew they could choose to become invisible by choice. She was genuinely confused by why they would choose to be so, but decided to be polite to whoever it was anyway.

“It is time for the library to close.” She said quietly, “Please put your book back and leave for the night.” The book didn’t move initially at her smooth yet imperative command, but soon after the book shut and floated over to one of the bookshelves where it was placed back. “Thank you.” Madame Pince nodded curtly in thanks, and then turned and left the library, locking up. She trusted the ghost could make their own way out.

The door shut with a click. It was locked. She knew it would be locked at night. But that was okay. She was able to walk through the walls now. Still, she hesitated… her mind still clung to the thought that she would crash into the wall, even though she had gone through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ plenty of times.

She didn’t feel like a ghost, not like someone who had died- no… she **mustn’t** think like that.

She wasn’t dead. Not really. She could still hear her heart beating… although it was faint. Her body was alive. She just… didn’t know where it was. She was a spirit without its body.

She was Hermione Granger.


	2. How It All Began

_No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness that created it._ ~Albert Einstein

“Hermione, are you sure you’ll be fine on your own tonight?” Hermione's mother asked, concerned, as she put on a thin cardigan and collected her leather purse.

“Of course I’ll be fine, Mum,” laughed the young teenager with bushy brown hair. “The house will be firmly locked up. Besides, magic!” She fingered the vine wand in her back pocket. She wasn’t meant to use magic outside of school, but she had neglected to tell her parents that. They felt safer thinking their daughter was able to protect herself. “I was thinking I could invite Ginny over, introduce her to Muggle movies. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course- but don’t have too many people over, and no boys, alcohol or horror movies,” her father warned, coming down the stairs.

“Are you sure you’ll be…” Hermione’s mother fretted, but the girls’ father cut her off with a light-hearted laugh.

“Come off it, Jean, she’ll be fine. Nothing will happen,” he steered his wife out of the house. “Goodnight Hermione.”

“Goodnight Dad,” Hermione grinned.

After they left, Hermione quickly wrote a letter to Ginny, inviting her over, before wondering how she would send it to her. Her question was answered when a bundle of fur shot through and open window and hit her in the side of the face.

“Hello, Pig,” she said tiredly, greeting her best friend's tiny, hyperactive white-faced Scops owl. “I suppose you’ve come to take the letter to Ginny?” Instead of answering, which was unlikely he would have anyway, the owl flew to her cupboard, and hovered there for a moment. “Or food,” she rolled her eyes and found him a small treat at the very back of the cabinet. He gobbled it down, acting a lot like his master, Hermione noted. When he was done, he patiently allowed Hermione to attach her letter to his leg, before flying off into the night. Now all she had to do was wait for an answer. She curled up on her settee, and began to read the book she had bought earlier on that day.

Around half an hour later, she put down her book, for she was getting hungry. That was when she heard the noise. It was a small click, but deafening in the silence of the house. She jumped up from her perch on the settee, and looked around. What was happening? What had that noise been?

“Hello?” Hermione called out anxiously, reaching instinctively for her wand where it lay in her back pocket. “Ginny, is that y…”

“ _Stupefy!_ ” Hermione barely had time to gasp before she fell to the floor, rendered unconscious.

Hermione couldn't open her eyes. She supposed that a spell had been cast for that purpose, so that she couldn't see who had cursed her. However, they had forgotten that even though she may not be able to see, she could still hear.

“So now what?” Asked one voice, unfriendly and raspy, and very, very quiet.

“The Dark Lord did not specify,” another cold, drawling voice replied slowly. Hermione’s heart stopped for a moment. She knew that voice, a voice she should have trusted beyond most others- Professor Severus Snape’s… the Potions’ Master at Hogwarts. He was meant to be one of the good guys, one of the few adults that Hermione knew for sure she could trust. He was in the Order of the Phoenix! Yet here he was, speaking Voldemort’s official title with reverence and respect, and… and abducting her! Hermione felt truly and utterly betrayed. Over the roar of her rapid thoughts, there was a crash not so far away. “Which one of you idiotic dunderheads made that noise? If a neighbour finds us here… Go and make sure they don’t,” Hermione heard shuffling as Deatheaters hurried to do what the double agent had commanded.

When it sounded as though everyone was gone, she heard Snape mutter to her in a low voice, so low even she had to strain to hear. “I’m sorry about this, Miss Granger.” Then he cast a spell that Hermione didn’t quite hear. She then felt the strangest feeling, like she was floating away from her body. Once again, she lost consciousness.

* * *

Hermione woke up to the sound of somebody calling her name.

“Hermione? Hermione, are you in here?” It was Ginny, come to watch the movie. Hermione laughed and looked around. She must have fallen asleep. Ginny was stood in the doorway, her expression a mixture of worry and anxiousness.

“Ginny, I had the strangest dream!” Hermione chuckled, “there were Deatheaters here, and it was so weird- I dreamt that Snape was a…”

“Hermione?” Ginny called out again, oblivious to what her friend had said. “Hermione, this isn’t funny.”

“Huh… I thought it was,” Hermione shrugged, “anyway, what movie do you want to watch?”

“Hermione? … Please, Hermione, come out. Stop playing around,” Ginny pleaded. Hermione frowned- what was Ginny going on about? She was right there! Ginny looked around once more, and gasped. She ran through the room to the sofa where Hermione was perched, and dropped to the floor. She picked up Hermione’s dragon heartstring wand, which lay abandoned on the floor.

“Hermione…” The young ginger began to cry, bending her head to the floor. Hermione stood up, confused by the way the Weasley was acting. She looked in the faded mirror above the mantlepiece, and gave an icy, ear-splitting scream.

Staring back at her was a translucent yet shimmering ghost.


	3. The Slug Club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think here would be a good point to add a disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or most of the dialogue that happens in this chapter, which is taken from the Half Blood Prince (both the movie and the book)

* * *

_I am what time, circumstance, history has made of me, certainly, but I am also much more than that. So are we all._ ~James A. Baldwin

The news was all over the Daily Prophet - ‘ _Muggleborn Friend of the Chosen One Missing: Dark Arts Involved?_ ’ - Draco Malfoy snorted as he folded the paper over. Dark Arts were bound to be involved, his aunt had hinted as such. It was as much as that Mudblood deserved. She had always acted so stuck-up; she had believed that she was better than everybody else just because she was the teachers’ pet and best friend of the Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn’t-Take-The-Hint-And-Die-Already. Well, after this… She would know her place.

But enough about that Granger. Pansy was looking at him weirdly; he could feel her gaze boring into the back of his head. He turned himself towards her and smirked, tossing the newspaper towards her. Pansy read it swiftly and sighed in satisfaction.

“No more than the Mudblood deserves.” Pansy laughed, the sound grating on Draco’s nerves. “Here, you said on the platform you had something to say to us.” Her eyes glinted with curiosity, and Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wished that Zabini would hurry up and return from whatever Slughorn wanted. He wanted to hear this as well, besides, he would, without fully realising it, take Pansy off Draco’s hands. Pansy lovedto goad and tease Zabini, which was less annoying, and more amusing, in Draco’s eyes.

“Yes, however Zabini will need to hear of it as well.” Draco replied nonchalantly, “I am not the type to repeat myself, am I?”

“I suppose you aren’t.” Pansy tittered, and turned around in her seat to face two other Slytherin girls, Daphne and Astoria Greengrass. They began to gossip and giggle, acting as if they were each two years younger. Draco turned his attention to the task at hand, the task that had been entrusted to him by his Lord, the Evil One, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Well, two tasks, if you were to think about it properly. Task One: To get Deatheaters inside the school. Task Two: To kill Albus Dumbledore. It would be best to do it in that order. But how exactly was he going to do it? He wasn’t sure… He heard a click, and the slide of a door. The blonde boy looked up. Zabini was back. Just as he was closing the door, however, it flung open, and Zabini fell onto Goyle’s lap. Draco started sniggering as the two growled at each other like feral dogs. Still chuckling, he lay back onto Pansy’s lap, who immediately began to stroke his hair. It was good to feel loved.

“Zabini, where have you been?” Draco asked, trying to make conversation.

“You know where.” Zabini said, still glowering at Goyle. “With Slughorn. He's been gathering a bunch of students, probably to make connections.”

Draco frowned. “Who was there?”

“McLaggen from Gryffindor... Someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw-”

“Not him, he’s an idiot!” Pansy groaned.

“And Longbottom, Potter and that female Weasley.” 

“He invited Longbottom?!” Draco shot up from his comfortable perch, confused.

“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there.”

“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?” Zabini shrugged. “And it's obvious about Potter, but... the Weaslette! What’s so special about her?”

“A lot of boys like her,” Pansy said slyly, “Even you think she’s good-looking, don’t you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!”

“I wouldn’t touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like.” Snarled Blaise. Pansy smirked at his angry expression, and pulled Draco back down onto her lap so she could continue stroking him longingly.

“Well, I pity Slughorns’ taste. Maybe he’s gone a bit senile.” He sighed. “Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. Ah, he used to be a bit of a favourite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train, or-”

“I wouldn’t loose any sleep over it.” Zabini chuckled, “He asked me about Nott’s father when I got there, apparently they used to be old friends, but when he heard he’d been caught at the Ministry he didn’t look happy, and Nott didn’t get an invitation, did he? I don’t think Slughorn’s interested in Deatheaters.”

Not interested in Deatheaters? Draco was fuming inside. The man was clearly senile. Deatheaters were the future. Deatheaters were the way forward. Deatheaters were survival… Draco chuckled under his breath. Deatheaters survived… Nobody else.

“Well, who cares what he’s interested in?” Draco shrugged, making out like it was no big deal. “What is he when you come down to it? Just some stupid old teacher.” Draco yawned, and decided to slip a hint to their conversation. “I mean, I probably won't even be at Hogwarts next year, what’s it to me if some fat old has-been likes me?”

“What do you mean; you might not be at Hogwarts next year?” Pansy all but shrieked, freezing and looking at him in horror.

“Well, you never know…” Draco smirked softly, “I might have- ah- moved on to bigger and better things.” He was satisfied at the reaction he got of his clique. Crabbe and Goyle’s mouths were open in awe. Pansy was frozen in shock. Even Zabini, as indifferent as he usually was, was looking mildly curious.

“Do you mean… _them_?” Pansy asked slowly. Draco shrugged.

“Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don’t see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it… When the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.Ls or N.E.W.Ts anyone’s got? Of course he isn’t… Just look at Granger! Highest achiever in our year, but where is she now?” Draco chuckled, and a flash of a proud smirk appeared on Pansy’s face.

“What do you mean, Malfoy?” Zabini asked.

“Haven’t you seen the Daily Prophet, Blaise?” Pansy purred vindictively. “I’d have thought a well-brought-up pureblood like you would make it your business to learn the news…”

“I’ve been in Italy all summer; it wasn’t high on my to-do list.” Zabini growled, his eyes flashing.

“Granger’s gone missing.” Draco explained. “The papers suspect involvement by the Dark Arts…” He laughed. “They’re all stupid. Think about it- Potter’s best friend goes missing- Of course there’s going to be Dark Arts involved!”

“Are you saying… The Dark Lord has… Got the Mudblood?” Pansy asked breathlessly.

“One does not tell the Dark Lords secrets, Pansy.” Draco smirked, tapping the side of his nose. He looked out of the blackened window. “I can see Hogwarts. We’d better get our robes on.”

As they all fumbled to get their cloaks on, Draco paused. He was sure he’d heard a small gasp from above him on the luggage rack. He looked up and frowned. He could have sworn he’d seen a… lightning… scar? He quickly fastened the buttons on his clock, and averted his gaze. He looked over to Pansy, who was waiting for him, holding her hand out expectantly.

“You go on.” Draco told her. “I want to check on something.” She left, albeit reluctantly, and Draco waited until the room was empty before closing the compartment door and pulling the blinds shut. He smirked as he leant over his trunk, fingering his wand. Then he span, pointing his wand at the seemingly empty space, yelling ‘ _petrificus totalus!_ ’. He could have laughed as Potter’s invisibility cloak slipped off him and he fell to the floor, on his knees, right in front of Dracos’ feet.

“Didn’t Mummy ever tell you it was rude to eavesdrop, Potter?” Draco snorted a mirthless laugh. “Oh, right. She was dead before you could wipe the drool off your chin... Suppose you wanted to see if anyone here had news on your precious Mudblood?” He watched him for a moment, considering the so-called Chosen One. “You didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I’ve got you here…” He stomped hard, on Potter’s face, and almost laughed out loud when he heard the satisfying crunch of the boys nose breaking and he watched as blood spurted all over the be-spectacled boys face. “That was from my father.” Without another word he covered Potter back up, collected his belonging, and left the room, treading on the boys fingers and muttering lowly, “Have a nice trip back to London, Potter.”


	4. Hermione's Predicament

_All personal achievement starts in the mind of the individual. Your personal achievement starts in your mind. The first step is to know exactly what your problem, goal or desire is._ ~ W. Clement Stone

Hermione sat at the end of the ancient, wooden Gryffindor table, bored out of her mind. She had realised quickly that nobody alive could see or hear her; she was invisible to the world. She could pick things up, but she couldn't eat or drink- she didn't need to either, which was lucky. _Focus,_ she told herself, _li_ _sten to what Dumbledore is saying, it could be important._ She looked up at the old, bearded headmaster. He couldn't see her any more than anyone else could, even though he was an extremely talented wizard. He was talking about the new staff arrangements. Even though Hermione wasn't attending classes anymore, she still wanted to pay attention.

She gasped, like the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students in the Great Hall, as Dumbledore announced that Severus Snape had been appointed Defense against the Dark Arts Professor. Snape had been one of the ones who’d kidnapped her, he’d separated her from her body- he was a Deatheater! And Dumbledore trusted him; Dumbledore had let him become a Professor who would specialise in the Dark Arts, and teach young, malleable students its potential? She groaned softly. Maybe the headmaster, however sensible he had been throughout his life, had gone senile in his old age. She drifted out of the wide hall, uninterested. She was halfway to the library, her safe haven, when she had an epiphany… The living couldn't see her, that was true, but she hadn't thought of the dead, the ghosts who haunted Hogwarts- Peeves, Myrtle, Nearly Headless Nick, The Grey Lady, The Bloody Baron, The Fat Friar, not to mention all the others! However, Hermione knew that she couldn't test her new theory, sadly, for all of the ghosts were in the Great Hall, for the Welcoming Feast, and she didn't want to cause a scene. Hermione sighed, before another thought came to her- there was one more ghost she knew who wasn't at the feast, one ghost who was _never_ at the feast…

“MYRTLE!” She yelled, turning on her heel and floating excitedly to the moping teenage ghost’s haunt- the first floor girls’ bathroom. As always, it was cold in the room, and the door to the Chamber of Secrets lay closed, its snake-embossed tap stiff and shining ominously from the bright, lazy moonlight that shone from a nearby, arched window. Another tap near it dripped every so often, and its sound reverberated around the room loudly. Moaning Myrtle was lying on a singular stone beam above Hermione’s head, sighing to herself. Her glasses where at the very bridge of her nose, and her two bunches hung down either side of the beam, pointing towards the floor. The ghosts hands where behind her head, cushioning them from the hard stone beneath, and her legs where crossed over each other. Her eyes were slightly closed, and her lips smiled slightly. When Hermione floated up to meet Myrtle, her nose twitched, but the girl didn't seem to notice her, inside her own little, probably Harry-obsessed world. After waving her arms, pulling faces, and doing millions of other things, Hermione sighed and decided that Myrtle wouldn't notice her, since her eyes were half closed anyway.

“Myrtle.”  Even though Hermione’s voice had not been loud, in Hermione’s opinion, the once relaxed teenage ghost shrieked and lost her balance, falling off the beam. She fell quickly, and would have fallen through the floor if she had not caught herself just in time and floated around an inch off the floor. Her eyes were wide and scared, her mouth in an ‘o’ of horror.

“Whose there?” She called out, looking anxious. “Where are you?”

“I’m right here.” Hermione replied, floating down to Myrtle’s level. Her voice was calm and level, in contrast to Myrtles’ which was high pitched and freaked out.

“Where!?” Myrtle called, spinning around in a circle to look around her.

“I’m right in front of you.” Hermione pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

“Is this a trick? Is that you, Peeves? Why are you playing a trick on me!?!” Myrtle was crying now, overworked. Hermione frowned. Myrtle could hear her, but why couldn't she see her? She reached her hand out to try and calm the poor, frightened ghost.

“I’m not playing a trick on you, Myrtle, honestly. It’s me, it’s Her...” Hermione’s voice was smooth, and calming, but it only succeeded in pushing Myrtle over the edge.

“Go away! Go away!” She screeched, flying to her toilet as fast as she could and diving down it. The water inside splashed against the rim for a moment before settling back down. Hermione gasped, and debated whether she should follow the girl, but eventually decided against it.

“She couldn't see me… Nobody can see me…” She whispered. Disheartened, Hermione floated through the cold castle. The Welcoming Feast had ended, and now the Prefects and the Head Boy were leading excited yet tired first years to their common rooms. Their expressions told her that they would rather the eleven year olds would calm down, but everybody could tell they would not, and who could blame them? They were suddenly a part of something magical, something beyond Muggles fanciful imagination. She shivered as an oblivious fourth year rushed through her to catch up with his friends.

“What really happened to your nose?” Hermione heard Ron’s voice, and quickly floated to catch up with him before she recalled he wouldn't notice her.  Ron was walking up the staircases with Harry, the two deep in an enthralling conversation. Hermione didn't listen to the boys’ conversation, preferring just to enjoy their company. Then, she heard Malfoys’ name mentioned… he had done _what_?! “I saw Malfoy miming something to do with a nose!”

“Yeah, well, never mind that…” said Harry bitterly, pulling his friend behind a tapestry, where they wouldn't be overheard by anybody but the ghost of their friend haunting them. “Listen to what he was saying before he found out I was there…” Hermione stopped listening, not caring what Harry had listened, really. But listening to them had reminded her of something, had given her a purpose. Her best friends… She had to get her body back for them, if nothing else. But… How would she get it back? By researching in the library! She headed that way, hoping that Madam Prince wouldn’t walk in while she was there- floating books would be strange, even in Hogwarts.


	5. Holy Merlin!

_A sudden bold and unexpected question doth many times surprise a man and lay him open_ ~Francis Bacon

It was one of Draco Malfoy’s many free periods. Before the summers’ events, his ideal way to spend this allotted time was to finish his dreaded homework, as quickly as he could, then relax about the Black Lake with his companions (Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and quite often Pansy and her giggling friends) in the dying warmth, before the castle and its Scottish environment succumbed to the freezing winds of winter.

Now though, of course, he was sat in the dreary, musty library, staring down at an almost blank, peach-coloured, crumpled piece of parchment. At the top was the title: ‘ _Plan_ ’, in Draco’s semi-elegant handwriting. The rest of the parchment was split into two columns- the left was entitled ‘ _Dumbledore_ ’, and the right ‘ _Deatheaters_ ’. Underneath the latter, was a short note…

‘ _Hint about Vanishing Cabinet in Hogwarts. Find, repair, and link it to the one at Borgin and Burkes_ ’

Draco sighed, his quill hovering over the parchment. How was he going to do this? _How_ was he going to _do_ this? He had no plan, no success criteria, no method… All of this was just a big blank! He circled his only option lightly, gritting his teeth, and decided to work on it. That would be… something… at least. Another thought crossed his mind- how would he kill Dumbledore? Draco hated to admit it, but he wasn't fully ready to show the Wizarding World his allegiances just yet, especially by assassinating the beloved headmaster Albus Dumbledore.  He’d have to use a sneaky method, like a poison, or a curse… _Perhaps I should ask Aunt Bellatrix if she has any ideas…_ Draco sighed once more, and looked around him. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Madame Pince was keeping records over by her mahogany, stationary desk, looking up every so often to survey the library with hawk eyes, and there were a bunch of third year Hufflepuffs gossiping over by a table not so far away from Draco. Every so often one of them would look over at Draco and catch his solemn, grey eyes. She would look at him watching her watching him, before she turned back around to her friends, blushing and giggling. He rolled his eyes at their antics. Over at the far end of the library, Draco spied Grangers’ frizzy brown hair bobbing as she stood on her tiptoes to select a very old and big tome to read. She checked the title, groaned in frustration, and heaved the book back up to its place. Draco snorted; shouldn't Granger have heard the phrase ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’ by now? Since she was such a demented bookworm… He looked over to his left, where some Ravenclaws were avidly discussing Gamps’ law with invigorated and loud voices.

Suddenly Draco swiveled his gaze back to the bookcase and almost yelled at what he had seen earlier. He had seen Granger in the Hogwarts’ library... but Granger wasn't at Hogwarts. Nobody knew where Granger was. He looked around to try and figure out where he’d seen her… Oh, look, now she had gone. Was Draco hallucinating? He breathed heavily, before a thought came to him. He got up and hurried to the other side of the bookshelf, but the Mudblood was nowhere to be seen. Draco groaned softly. If all this wasn’t enough, now he was going crazy…

* * *

Hermione was engrossed in her novel. It didn't explain exactly what was happening to her, in fact it wasn't in her topic at all, it was a young adult vampire romance novel, but there was something about it… something addictive and attracting. An unknown object went through her and she lost her focus, shivering. She looked up to see the sometimes fierce, but kindly librarian, Madam Pince, standing above her.

“It is time for the library to close. Please put your book back and leave for the night.” Madam Prince said softly, keeping her voice level.

“Can you see me, Madam Pince?” Hermione whispered excitedly, overjoyed somebody could see her, before realizing sadly that the middle-aged woman could just see a random, floating book. Hermione sighed, closed it, and put it back on its shelf.

“Thank you.” Madame Pince nodded, and left the room, locking the wooden front doors behind her. Hermione braced herself and walked through the wall. She then began to wander around the cold, silent school, lost in her own depressing thoughts… She slid down onto the floor and sat there, her knees scrunched up by her face. She began to hum a song her mother had taught her as a child, wet tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. It was hopeless… Nobody could see her, Myrtle could hear her, but she couldn't be much help…

“Granger?”

“What do _you_ want, Malfoy?” Hermione asked thickly, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Come to gloat, I bet? Well you can…” She looked up, startled, at the shocked silver-haired pure-blood. “Malfoy!” She stood up, floating a tiny bit away from the ground. She reached her hand out to him apprehensively. “Can you… see me?” The adolescent boy stared for a second, his grey eyes wide.

“HOLY MERLIN!” Malfoy yelled loudly, and sprinted off in the opposite direction. Hermione sighed again and slid back to the floor, knowing better than to go after him.

 She put her head in her hands and groaned. “Great. As if my situation wasn't bad enough, now my only hope is… Malfoy. Malfoy is the only one who can help me.”


	6. Promises

_We promise according to our hopes, and perform according to our fears._ ~Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Hermione tried to be as quiet as she could as she stealthily followed Malfoy. Yesterday he had seemed to be coming back from somewhere secret, and she wanted to see where he’d gone. Hermione hid behind a corner as Malfoy passed back and fore impatiently by an innocent wall… No... Not innocent… This was where the Room of Requirement was! But what was Malfoy doing going there? What could he want with the Room of Requirement? The door materialized, and Malfoy laughed quietly. He opened the door, and Hermione followed quickly, not wanting to be left behind. Looking around, she almost gasped. The room was the size of a large cathedral, and long windows let in light that shone down on what seemed to be skyscrapers, but where really thousands of hidden and lost objects, left by Hogwarts students over the years. There were broken and vandalized tables and chairs, books, no doubt banned from the school syllabus… There where Fanged Frisbees and catapults with wings on, and at least seven swords and a single, blood-stained ax. Then, of course, where the lost items, the bottled potions, the hats and cloaks, the expensive jewels. Shaking her head, Hermione followed Malfoy through the city of old things, before he stopped and groaned audibly, pulling from his cloak pocket a torn picture of what seemed to be a Vanishing Cabinet. The arrogant pureblood frowned.

“Malfoy…” Hermione said; her voice small and apprehensive. She still wasn't sure if she should do this…

“Granger.” Malfoy replied without turning. “So I wasn't hallucinating then? Funny, I could have sworn that I was having a nightmare the minute I saw your garish Mudblood face.”

“Stuff it Malfoy.” Hermione hissed venomously, rolling her eyes, before she leant forward to curiously inspect the paper. “Is that a Vanishing Cabinet?”

“Yes.” He replied after a short pause.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“You mean, if I find it?” Malfoy scoffed. His voice was cold. Hermione floated nearer to him and the picture. She trailed a finger over the lines of the picture, absently. Malfoy muttered under his breath, “What do you want, Granger?”

Hermione debated the answer. She wanted her body back, of course, and she needed help with that. But she couldn't- she  _wouldn't_  just turn around and force him to help her, it would be rude and insensitive, not to mention against all Hermione felt she stood for. The act would have to be returned somehow… “I want to help.”

“What?” Malfoy burst out laughing, and did so for a few minutes before calming down. “Granger, what help could _you_ possibly be to _me_?”

“I can still pick things up.” Hermione snapped defensively, picking up a coat to prove her case. “And nobody else can see me…” A look of sadness flashed across her face. “Nobody else can see me but you. I- I’d be able to work during the night and I’d never get caught.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Malfoy turned away. “Something I've learnt is that people always want something in return. Also, you should never trust a Gryffindor.” Draco snorted. “Besides, I don’t need help.”

“Yes you do.”

“No, Granger, _I don’t_. Especially from a stuck-up, insufferable know-it-all Mudblood like you.” Hermione winced, then grabbed his left wrist and turned him around.

“Malfoy…”

“Get off!” He snapped harshly, jerking his arm away from her. His sleeve rolled up a couple inches, and exposed a tiny bit of ink… Hermione’s eyes widened and she reached for his arm again. “I said, _get off_!” But it was too late; Hermione had pulled the sleeve all the way up to reveal a skull which had a snake slithering out of its mouth. Hermione floated a step back.

“The… Dark… Mark?” Hermione spoke slowly. “Malfoy… What?”

“Granger, I said get off…” Malfoy’s voice was a low and menacing growl.

“Holy Merlin…” She closed her eyes, and then opened them again. She was slowly fading out of view, to another place, and her voice matched her action. “I thought you were better than that, Malfoy… The others think the worst of you but I thought…” She was gone.

“Granger… Bloody Hell…” Malfoy grumbled, turning and going off to find her, his mission to find the Vanishing Cabinet on hold.

* * *

“Granger?” She was leaning on the rail of the Astronomy Tower, or at least she seemed to be. She didn't look at Draco, instead choosing to stare at the Quidditch pitch quite some distance away, where Gryffindor was holding try-outs.

“What happened to you Malfoy?” She asked him, her voice soft, with a touch of regret. “I mean, you were always a bully, but not… not _this_. What did he say, what could he have possible have said that made the offer seem _so_ tempting you couldn't refuse it?”

“I didn't have a choice, Granger.” Draco replied, joining Granger at the edge.

“Everybody has a choice.” She whispered. He turned to her, his grey eyes glinting with anger, and was that… hurt?

“My father failed him. My choice?” He laughed bitterly. “My choice was to join him, or watch my mother die a painful death before the wand was turned on me. What would you have done? My mother is everything to me, Granger. _Everything_. To watch her die…”

“What does he want you to do?” Hermione questioned.

“Why? What do you care? You’d probably just go and tattle to your stupid, idiotic friends anyway.” Draco mumbled, turning and walking away. When he didn't see Granger follow, he turned again.

“I do care.” She was right in front of him.

“HOLY MERLIN!” Draco shrieked, jumping back. “Merlin, Granger, don’t… Don’t do that!” He clutched his chest dramatically.

“I do care. I care very much, and they can’t hear me. There would be no use in telling them what you’re up to. I want to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Yes you do, Malfoy, even if you won’t admit it yourself. What does he want you to do?”

Draco grumbled. “I’m not going to tell you.”

“Look, I’ll tell you what happened to me if you tell me what he wants you to do.” Granger propositioned.

“I couldn't care less what happened to you!” Draco scoffed, laughing loudly.

“You… You… URGH!!” She yelled in frustration, pushing him hard. He yelled and lost his balance, flipping over the edge. Granger screamed, and dived for his hand.

“Granger! Holy… Get me out of here! Stupid Mudblood, are you trying to kill me?!” Draco cried, grabbing onto the railing.

“I…” Her eyes were wide, her pupils small in fear. She pulled on his hand with all her might, until, with effort from him as well; he was back on solid ground. “Sorry?”

“Sorry? _Sorry_?! You push me off the flipping _Astronomy Tower_ and all you say if SORRY!?” Draco breathed, lain on a huddle on the floor. After a moment of silent he said, “He wants me to get Deatheaters into Hogwarts.”

“Oh. That’s why you need the Vanishing Cabinet, huh?”

“Yes… What happened to you?”

“Deatheaters kidnapped me and Professor Snape split my body from my soul.” Granger explained.

“What are you going to do about it?” Draco asked, standing up. She looked at him.

“I don’t know… Find out how he did it, and then reverse it? I’m not even used to… to this!” She groaned and ran her hands through her hair.

“I’ll tell you what,” Draco whispered, shocking even himself by his soft tone. “I’ll help you, if you help me.”

She was silent for a moment, and then she looked at him.

“Okay.”

“Promise Granger?” She faded into thin air, and Draco looked around for her. He smiled despite himself when he heard her say…

“I promise.”


	7. When in doubt...

_A library is not  a luxury but one of the necessities of life._ ~Henry Ward Beecher

Draco found himself wondering what had happened to him, because he had recently noticed that he had changed dramatically in the past hours. For Merlin’s sake, he was standing in front of the library, waiting for it to open! This, this was something he would never, _never_ do… The Ravenclaws must have realised this, because they were staring at him strangely out of the corner of their eyes, as if they were carefully assessing one who had just come out of a long-term hospitalization in St. Mungo’s. Draco tapped his foot impatiently, yet kept his calm and Malfoy composure, and did not rush when the doors finally opened. He spotted Granger instantly, at the back of the library. She was floating next to a table that was stacked with books.

“Granger.” He nodded curtly as he arrived at her selected table.

“Malfoy!” She greeted, far too chirpily for a Sunday morning. “Okay, so I’ve found plenty of books on Vanishing Cabinets, and… well… whatever this is.” She gestured to her almost translucent body. “So you look through these…” She tapped the books on the left, “and I’ll check these.” She pointed to the books on the right.

“Fine.” Draco rolled his eyes, and sat down in a wooden chair next to the book laden table. Bored already, he picked up the first book.

Half an hour later, Draco slammed his book down on the desk, earning several glares from the nearby Ravenclaws, who had been studying peacefully until Draco had so rudely interrupted.

“I can’t do this, Granger.” He complained, scowling at her. “I don’t even know what fully happened.”

“What do you mean?” Granger replied calmly, fingering the page of her book and looking up at him with her big brown eyes- brown like mud, of course, which reflected her blood.

“I mean, how can I find the counter curse when I don’t understand the spell.” He glowered at the ghost girl, who narrowed her eyes at him.

“I don’t know the spell either, Malfoy,” she hissed, shooting him a dirty, yet slightly hurt look. “I thought I’d told you. My eyes wouldn’t open, and Snape muttered the spell so low I couldn’t hear it. This is the book you’ll need.” She handed him a yellow and black book labelled ‘ _Vanishing Cabinets for The Average Hufflepuff_ ’. “Now, if you’re not going to at least try to be civil with me, I’m leaving.” She turned away from him.

“… Granger?”

“ _WHAT_?!?!”

“… I’m not a Hufflepuff.”

“URGH!” Granger shrieked loudly in exasperation, far loudly than she’d have dared if others but Draco could have heard her. She disappeared, and Draco huffed at the spot where she had been before waving his wand towards the books, and putting them back where they were meant to be, and leaving as well.

* * *

 

Hermione appeared beside her best friends’ bedside. He’d fallen asleep reading, again. Hermione gave a dry chuckle. It felt strange to say that. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the unofficial King of Rushed Homework, had fallen asleep reading. It was the same book again- what was so special about the old book anyway? It was a normal textbook- an average book, though aged, to be used in sixth year Potions, no less, no more. She carefully slotted the book from his grasp and opened it to the first page.

“‘This _book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince._ ’” Hermione read aloud. “The Half-Blood Prince? Who is that? It doesn’t sound like the kind of name Harry would give himself, and it can’t be Ron… He’s a pureblood…” Intrigued, Hermione began to flick through the pages. Around potion methods, the Prince had written changes and corrections that Hermione didn't doubt would work. “So _this_ is how Harry’s suddenly so good at Potions…” Hermione shot a glare at her sleeping friend, before going back to the book, perching on the trunk at the end of his bed. Every so often she would come across spells in the margin, that she would never trust one bit. “Sectumsempra… For enemies… I don’t like the sound of that.” Around half way, she stopped. Something had caught her eye.

“ _Anima Remotionem_ \- to separate the soul from the body. For more information see ‘Paranormalcy in The Wizarding World: Ghosts A-Z’ by Roland Finch- edition one. Restricted section.” Hermione gave an uncharacteristic squeal as she recited what Harry’s old textbook read. This Prince person was sketchy, but never mind that! This was what they had been looking for, what she and Malfoy had rowed over! No wonder they hadn't found it today, they hadn't been looking in the right place! She _had_ to tell Malfoy!

* * *

 

“Malfoy! Malfoy!” Draco groaned and rolled over in his sleep. “Wake up! Malfoy! Malfoy!” Everything was quiet, and he smirked, thinking the annoying intruder had gone.

“MALFOY!!!!” Draco gave a high-pitched shriek and fell off his bed with a loud thud. Theodore Nott, from his bed to the left of Draco’s, sat up grumpily.

“Whappened?” He mumbled.

“I… uh… I had a nightmare.” Draco lied once he had calmed down, glaring at the ghost floating at the end of her bed, who was clutching her sides as she laughed. “I dreamt a Mudblood was stalking me.”

“Well, have a quieter nightmare next time.” Theo snapped sleepily, lying back down into his bed.

When Draco was sure his roommate had fallen back asleep, he turned to glare icily at the translucent spirit who had woken him.

“Granger, what the-” His eyes flashed with anger.

“I have good news, Malfoy!” Granger reported, twirling around in the air.

“And it could wait until morning because…” Draco raised his eyebrows grumpily, climbing back into his bed. Granger acted as if she couldn't hear him, and Draco snorted. _How ironic…_

“I’ve found out what Snape’s done to me!”

“And now I can go back to bed, right?”

“No.” She frowned, and then continued. “There’s more about it in a book.” Draco raised his eyebrows. “In the Restricted Section.” _Of course._

“So… Go read it. Or is the Gryffindor to scared to go out in the dark without the big brave Slytherin?” He mocked, turning over so he didn't have to look at her. She moved around his bed so he was facing her, and he scowled.

“This is something we should do together.”

“Then it can wait until morning.”

“In the morning you can’t sneak in!”

“I’ll get permission, Granger, like a _normal person_.” Granger snorted.

“Yeah, right. Because you’re a normal person. Besides, who would give _you_ permission to go into the Restricted Section?”

“Snape.”

“Urgh…” Granger groaned, and pulled Draco out of bed. “Stop arguing. We are going to do this whether you like it or not, and we will do it together!”

As Granger dragged Draco out of the room, you could hear Draco grumble quietly, “You sound like my mother.”

“ _WHAT_?!?!?!?!”

“Nothing… Nothing…”

* * *

 

After around half an hour, as the distant Hogwarts bells chimed two, Draco and his spiritual companion stood in the middle of the Restricted Section. Draco held a large, dusty tome in his hands.

“This is it then?” He sounded bored.

“According to my source, yes. I’d go straight to the glossary and search…” Granger began to advise, but Draco cut her off.

“I know how to use a book, Granger.” He snapped, turning to the correct page with a flourish of his wand. “And you know there’s a spell for that, right?” The spectre rolled her brown eyes, and Draco read out the introductory paragraph in a bored tone.

“Soul Removal, for years it has been a lost magical art, which many have wished to master. First used in the medieval ages, magical beings used it in the Darkest of ways. Whether it was to get rid of competition, or to replace those people where jealous of, _Anima Remotionem_ was the easiest way, when not wanting to commit murder, of course. _Anima Remotionem_ is the act of taking ones soul and ripping it from the victim’s body, possibly like a Dementor would. However, the body does not continue as a hollow shell, instead it turns into a deep slumber that can only be awoken by a soul entering the body once more.

“A soul? Any soul? Is this book saying that at any time a soul could… could possess my body?!?” Shrieked Granger.

“Ow, Granger! Really, in my ear?” Draco grumbled.

“We have to find my body, Malfoy, we have to… what are you doing?” Draco, the adolescent in question, was shrinking the book, and placing it in his robe pocket.

“YOU CAN’T STEAL A LIBRARY BOOK!” Granger shrieked once more, and Draco winced at her tone.

“And why not?”

“You’ll get caught, besides, it’s immoral, and wrong, and…”

“If I duplo the book, I won’t get caught.” Draco said, taking the book out and duplifying it. He placed the copy in the originals place, then shrunk the original and placed it back in his pocket. “Besides, do you want to get your body back or not?”

“I… I… Oh, shut up Malfoy.” Granger snapped, and receded to thin air.

Free of the ghost-like girl at last, Draco laughed shortly, before leaving, to return to the Slytherin dormitories. He then continued his interrupted slumber, giving neither the book nor Granger another thought.


	8. Cursed

" _Curiosity, n. An objectionable qualiy of the female mind. The desire to know whether or not a woman is cursed with curiosity is one of the most active and insatiable passions of  the masculine soul_ " ~Ambrose Bierce

* * *

For the next few days, Hermione and Malfoy where very busy. Malfoy was combing the spiritual reference book on Hermione’s instruction, and going to classes. After his first Potions lesson, he obtained Polyjuice potion (though he neglected to tell Hermione how) and used it to change Crabbe and Goyle into girls. The two dumb bodyguards would then stand outside the Room of Requirement, while Malfoy went inside to join Hermione. Inside, they would hunt for the Vanishing Cabinet that Malfoy’s mother had told him about. The room was extremely large and filled with junk, so it would take them quite a while to find it. After they found it, of course, they would come to the task of fixing the Vanishing Cabinet, since facts pointed to it probably being broken.

“Granger, I’m not coming this weekend.” Malfoy said as they searched the room. “Just thought you ought to know.”

“Not… what?” Hermione turned to him, aghast. “Why not?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed Granger, but every day I’m working on this. I deserve this weekend off.” Malfoy reasoned. “Besides, it’s Hogsmeade this weekend.”

“Hogsmeade? I remember going to Hogsmeade…” Hermione sighed, and narrowed her eyes when Malfoy murmured about her sounding like an old Granny. She picked up the nearest thing to her, which happened to be a knotted wooden bowl, and threw it at him. Malfoy yelped when it collided with his back, and he turned and glared at her. “Just be glad I can’t do magic now.”

“You know, you’re awfully wound up today, Granger.” Draco commented offhandedly, rubbing his back and going back to his work. “Perhaps you should take a weekend off too, go glare at Snape for a few more hours.”

“I… How do you know about that?” Hermione demanded, floating around to look at him.

“Granger, I have classes with him. Every lesson you’re behind him, staring daggers at him. If looks could kill…” He peered behind a large bevelled mirror. “It’s pretty distracting, actually. Quite puts me off my work.”

“You say that like I care what N.E.W.T’s you get.” Hermione snorted.

“Well, you should at least take the weekend off. Merlin knows I could use a break from your ugly face.” Hermione almost throttled him, but stopped herself, reminding herself that she needed him to help her find her body.

“Then it’s agreed.” Hermione said loftily. “We will not speak, or deliberately seek each other out until Monday.”

“Deal.”

For around half an hour they searched before Hermione grew bored, leaned against an object that was covered in a light cloth… and fell through it with a yelp. After looking around inside for a few moments, the emerged.

“Messing around Granger? Not like you, is it?” Malfoy snorted. His amused smirk irritated her immensely.

“Malfoy…” Hermione began, and pulled back the cloth with a flourish, to reveal a large cabinet. “I believe I’ve found your Vanishing Cabinet.”

“Okay. We’ll begin working on it on Monday evening.”

* * *

Hermione floated into the Three Broomsticks, looking for her friends. She’d gotten off to a late start and had spent hours trying to catch up for them. _Of course, they won’t be able to see me,_ Hermione thought bitterly, but she was willing to try. Even so, their company was just what she needed. She smiled as she saw them both sat down with Butterbeer. Harry had a furious expression on his face that he normally would never have, and Ron was busy staring at Rosmerta, as he always did. Hermione sat next to them, on an empty chair, enjoying their company, though the air around them seemed frosty. As soon as Harry had finished his cup of Butterbeer, he turned to Ron.

“Shall we call it a day and go back to school, then?” He asked Ron, who agreed.

“It isn’t much fun without Hermione anyways.” Ron grumbled, and Hermione felt her heart tug. How she wished she could hug him, tell him how much she missed him, and that she was right there beside him! The two followed Katie Bell, and her friend, closely followed by the now moping Hermione. None of the Golden Trio thought of the two ahead of them, each wrapped in their own problems, until they all seemed to simultaneously notice that the two were having an argument.

“It’s nothing to do with you, Leanne!” Katie was yelling, as they all rounded a corner. Leanne, the girl Katie was with, made a lunge for the package Katie was carrying, almost playfully. Katie quickly tugged back, making the package fall to the ground, and that was when all hell broke loose.

Katie rose into the air gracefully, her arms outstretched as though she where about to take off and fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie… her hair was whipped around by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. Harry, Ron, and Leanne halted in their tracks, watching. Hermione gingerly floated up to meet Katie, poking her and asking, “Katie? Are you okay?”

Suddenly, Katie let out a terrible scream, which caused Hermione to jump back. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too, and sized Katie’s ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. Ron and Harry rushed forwards to help, but even as they grabbed Katie’s legs, she fell on top of them; Harry and Ron managed to catch her but she was writing so much they could hardly hold her. Instead they lowered her to the ground where she thrashed and screamed, apparently unable to recognise any of them.

“Stay there!” Harry shouted at the other two he saw near him. “I’m going for help!” And he sprinted off to get help. Leanne and Ron tried to quieten Katie’s harsh shrieks, Hermione just floating there behind them, not knowing quite what to do.

“Get back!” Came a gruff voice- Hagrid’s- suddenly, and Harry appeared with the half-giant. “Le' me see her!”

“Something’s happened to her!” Leanne sobbed, “I don’t know what-” Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then, without a word, bent down, scooped her into his hands and ran off towards the castle with her. Within seconds, Katie’s piercing screams had died away and the only sound was the roar of the wind.

“Leanne, what happened?” Harry asked quickly.

“It was when the package tore,” sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but Harry seized his arm and pulled him back.

“ _Don’t touch it_!” He crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper. “I’ve seen it before,” said Harry, staring at the thing. “It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it.” He looked up at Leanne, who had started to shake uncontrollably. “How did Katie get hold of this?”

“Well, that’s why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it… oh no, oh no, I bet she’d been Imperiused, and I didn’t realise!”

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione floated over to her quickly and patted her shoulder comfortingly. Leanne shivered.

“Did she say who gave it to her?” Harry asked suspiciously, and Hermione glared at him, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. Leanne was worried for her friend, and Harry was interrogating her?!?!?

“No… she wouldn’t tell me… and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn’t listen and… and then I tried to grab it from her… and- and-” Leanne let out a wail of despair, and Hermione glared at Harry once more.

“… Let’s get back up to the castle… y’know, find out about Katie…” Ron mumbled awkwardly. Harry hesitated for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his face and, ignoring Ron’s gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

“We’ll need to show this to Madame Pomfrey,” he said.

As Hermione followed the trio up the road, Harry seemed deep in thought, and Hermione wondered what he was thinking. They had just entered the grounds when he spoke, unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer.

“Malfoy knows about this necklace. It was in a case at Borgin and Burkes four years ago, I saw him having a good look at it while I was hiding from him and his dad. _This_ is what he was buying that day when we followed him! He remembered it and he went back for it!” Hermione’s eyes widened. Harry… He’d been harping on about Malfoy all year… but… Malfoy had been unusually eager to go to Hogsmeade this weekend, when he could have been getting an early start on the Vanishing Cabinet… He had been owling people back and fore, when he thought Hermione wasn’t around… He’d seemed so occupied when he wasn’t in the Room of Requirement… Could Harry be finally right?

* * *

“Malfoy!” Draco internally cringed at the high-pitched shriek. He checked nobody else was in the corridor before turning. “I thought we weren’t talking until Monday?” He snapped to the infernal ghost that constantly haunted him.

“That was until you cursed Katie Bell.”

“Wha- cursed _Bell_?” Draco raised his eyebrows.

“You put her under the Imperius curse so that she would deliver a cursed necklace to Professor Dumbledore!” Granger yelled, and began to search for something to hit him with, as she did when she got angry with him lately.

 “I didn’t curse Bell!” Draco protested, and Granger looked at him incredulously. “What? I didn’t… I wasn’t able to perform the curse, so I asked my Aunt Bellatrix to perform the Imperius curse for me… Wait, how do you know about this?” Fear coursed through his veins, because Granger had been with Potter, so if Granger knew…  Potter knew… And something had gone seriously wrong.

Granger told Draco everything that had happened at Hogsmeade, from start to finish. At the end, Draco sighed. _That wasn’t meant to happen. It was meant to go to Dumbledore! Nobody was meant to know it was cursed until Dumbledore had been cursed by it!_

“Well, that sucks.” He grumbled, masking his internal anxiety and indignation.

“Didn’t you hear me Malfoy? Katie’s lucky to be alive, and she isn’t very far from it! You could have killed… her…” Draco could practically see Granger’s mind whirring as she worked it out. When she next spoke, her voice was small. “Why are you trying to kill Professor Dumbledore?”

“Who said I was…”

“Don’t lie to me, Malfoy, why are you trying to kill Dumbledore?!” Granger screamed, rushing to him suddenly. Draco stepped backwards, and stumbled, falling to the floor.

“I…”

“TELL ME!”

“Okay, alright, alright! The Dark Lord wants me to kill Dumbledore! Merlin!” Draco closed his eyes, expecting the worst, silently yelling at himself for telling her.

“Will you?” Was all Granger said, her voice quiet. “Will you kill Professor Dumbledore?”

“That’s what He wants me to do.” Draco said, avoiding her gaze. He got up and walked off.

By some miracle, Granger didn’t follow him.


	9. Soul Mates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait.

" _Distance makes the heart grow fonder, and familiarity breeds contempt. According to this my soul mate should be in Thailand._ " ~Jason Zebehanzy

* * *

"Okay, so first the book says to clean it." Hermione said, reading out of the book she had found. "The outside can be cleaned any old ways, but the inside has to be cleaned with a small rag that has been dunked in lukewarm water."

"Any soap?" Malfoy asked.

"Not on the inside- the outside can be done any old ways." Hermione repeated. "You do the outside with magic, and I'll begin to do the inside, is that okay?"

"Sure." Malfoy agreed offhandedly. He conjured the necessary equipment, and they got to work quickly. As they worked, Hermione thought about things.

It had been around two weeks since Katie Bell had gotten cursed. Every other day was spent working on the Vanishing Cabinet; though Hermione had made it clear that she wouldn't help Malfoy with murder. Malfoy had been indifferent about that proclamation, and it was the nicest he had ever been to her. Eventually the two had stopped arguing, and any name-calling was classified as teasing only, and was generally light hearted. If Hermione ever said anything that she thought may have genuinely hurtful to Malfoy, she immediately and honestly apologised. When Malfoy said something that hurt Hermione's feelings, however, he didn't apologise, that wasn't his way- but he never protested when Hermione hit him with the Spanish Bible that was always seemed to be nearby, which Hermione had dubbed as 'The Holy Hitting Libro'. He avoided the jibes that involved her situation, and she never mentioned the Deatheaters in front of him- Hermione had promised Malfoy she wouldn't tell Harry and Ron what he was doing in any way… and she intended to stick to that oath. While neither she, nor he, would admit it, they had created a working truce, and maybe, just maybe, they were… allies?

Hermione smiled softly as she worked on the inside of the Vanishing Cabinet. Allies. That was the perfect way to describe their relationship. They didn't like each other, Merlin no, they were still enemies, sure, they still disliked each other, but… they tolerated each other's presence and worked together to achieve their goals. Hermione chuckled quietly as she washed out a small hole. Then she stopped, froze, and dropped the rag to the floor of the wooden cabinet, where it landed with a miniscule thump.

There was a hole.

"Everything okay in there, Granger?" Malfoy called from the outside. Hermione didn't answer him, flying instead out of the Vanishing Cabinet, and picking up the abandoned guide, flicking through the pages frantically. "Granger? You know, this partnership won't work if you can't-"

"We have a problem, Malfoy." Hermione cut him off, looking up from the book worriedly.

"Oh, do we?" Malfoy commented drily, continuing with his work. He wasn't bothered much about Hermione's thought, he had decided long ago that she overreacted to many, many things.

"There's a hole in the Vanishing Cabinet." Malfoy's head shot up, any thought before gone clear from his mind.

"What?! Show me." Malfoy commanded, dropping his things. Hermione floated to the entrance, pointing to the hole.

"There," She explained, "In there is meant to go Yetisol Azurae… Well, you know, a wooden hollow tube, preferably made of…"

"I know how to store Yeti-Zur, Granger. I pay attention in Potions, you know." Malfoy snapped, running his hand around the hole carefully. He turned his head to her. "Can the Vanishing Cabinet work without it?" Hermione flicked through the pages.

"Uh… Yes, but I wouldn't advise it." She showed him a picture that was clearly a person, having just travelled through a Vanishing Cabinet, whose limbs where bent awkwardly, and there was blood pouring from who knew where. "I suggest we get some before we continue." Hermione sighed. Draco groaned and threw his things to the floor, and cursed loudly.

"Malfoy, don't worry." Hermione said. He looked at her, raising his eyebrows sceptically. "We'll find some Yeti-Zur. Don't give up; this is just a minor bump in the road." It may have been Hermione's imagination, but she thought she detected a hint of sadness in his grey eyes. "I know where the kitchens are. We can go for ice cream if you want?"

"What's the point; you can't eat… can you?" Malfoy asked, eyeing her wearily.

"No, but that doesn't mean you can't eat some. Ice cream makes people feel better." Draco grumbled something about her not being a Healer, but followed her anyway, feeling a slight bit lucky he had not been hit by The Holy Hitting Libro for his comment.

* * *

Draco walked through Hogwarts, bored out of his mind. He couldn't sleep, too worried about how he was going to get the Yetisol Azurae. He was wandering around the fourth floor, when he saw Peeves laughing at a door.

"What are you doing, Peeves?" Draco asked, and the poltergeist turned, cackling.

"Student out of bed? Peevsie should…"

"I'm patrolling, Peeves." Draco lied smoothly, flashing the Prefect Badge he had first received last year. "And I want to know what you are up to."

"Not causing trouble, your Prefectness, only trying to cheer someone up." Peeves replied innocently. "They was crying in the brooms closet." Draco sighed to himself.

"Peeves, leave now before I call the Bloody Baron." Draco commanded, and Peeves reluctantly carried on down the hall. After a few seconds, a head appeared through the door. Granger jumped when she saw Draco leant against the wall.

"Granger. Well, thought you'd be celebrating your recent Quidditch win… Though, of course, had you let me play today, you would be celebrating your loss."

"Shut up Malfoy." Granger grumbled, turning away.

"Are you crying, Granger?" Draco chuckled. "What, missing your Gryffindor friends? … Oh." Draco raised his eyebrows. "It's Weasley, isn't it?"

"What?" Her shock proved it true, and she realised this. "Ugh, what would you know, Malfoy?" She swiped a hand at her eye, wiping a tear from it.

"I know, or at least, I'm pretty sure, that…" Draco took a deep breath. "You like Weaselbee but Brown also drools over him though I don't see why anybody would, Potter is in denial about his feelings for Weaslebee's sister who is having a rather rocky relationship with Thomas because she is also denying the feelings she once showed so admirably when she was younger towards Potter because she feels she is over him now when clearly the whole world but a select few know to back off because she is Potty's, and Potty is hers." Draco relayed all Pansy had eagerly spread through the common room since September, and then took a guess. "I'm guessing Brown got up her Gryffindor courage and snogged Weaselbee? And you are not okay with that."

"It's true." Granger sniffed. "I'm pretty sure he liked it, too."

"… I'm sorry Granger." Draco comforted half-heartedly, "Weasley is a jerk with no soul, and he wouldn't recognise his one true love if she stood in front of him waving a huge sign she had charmed to flash in all the colours of the rainbow. Did that help?"

"… Just go away, Malfoy." Granger snapped.

"Fine, fine." And Draco retreated to the Slytherin dormitories, wondering slightly why he was cursing Weaselbee under his breath, and feeling a deeper hatred for him than usual burning at the pit of his stomach…

* * *

Draco sat up in his bed. The curtains were closed, and the only light available came solely from his wand. On his lap lay the book about Granger… or at least, people like Granger. He'd decided to try and cheer her up by learning things about her situation, purely because he didn't want her sadness interfering with his work, of course. He flicked through the pages, before pausing at an interesting title around the middle of the novel.

"'Seeing souls: Why can he/she see me?' Well this sounds promising…" Draco chucked, reading the whole thing out loud quietly. "'There have been many fables from medieval history that speak of the art of Anima Remotionem. One of my particular favourites is the story of the witch Goradelia, who was in love with a young woodsman, Harold. Sadly, Harold did not love Goradelia back, because he was in love with a lovely young woman named Laurel, who worked in the nearby village. Soon Laurel and Harold were married, and that made Goradelia extremely jealous. So, in the middle of the night, Goradelia snuck into the couple's home and pushed Laurel's soul out of her body. Then, Goradelia did the same to her soul, and went inside Laurel's body. That way, Laurel could not get back into her body, and everybody thought that Goradelia was Laurel, even Harold. Laurel was left in her soul form, drifting around, until one day when Harold was in the woods; he came across Laurel's soul. Nobody, as stated earlier, can see a person when they are in soul form, yet Harold could see Laurel. Laurel told him what had happened, and, with help from a local Wiseman, they were able to cast Goradelia out of Laurel's body, and Laurel was able to get back in. The two lived happily ever after.

According to this story, nobody can see souls, except for the persons' husband. After collecting more of stories like the story of Goradelia, Harold and Laurel, I was able to unearth the theory behind the story. The only people who can see souls are the souls' other half, the persons… soul… mate..'"

When he reached the end, he looked up at the end of the bed, his grey eyes widened in shock.

"The reason why I can see Granger… is because I'm Granger's… Granger and I… are… soul mates?"


	10. The Unbreakable Vow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting I'm meant to be posting this fic over here. If you're really desperate to read it, the full story is over on ff.net, and the id is 8333936.

"' _Well, you can't break an Unbreakable Vow-' 'I'd worked that much out for myself, funnily enough.'_ " Ron Weasley and Harry Potter,  _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,_  Chapter Sixteen  _A Very Frosty Christmas_ , page 305.

* * *

Monday was not a good day for Draco. He had been up half the night reading that idiotic book, and the other half tossing and turning in his bed, trying to get to sleep. Now he had to face classes, of all things.

That was why, between lunch and his next class, Draco escaped to an empty girl's toilets that everybody seemed to avoid. He looked at himself in the mirror, whispering the words he had been telling himself since last night.

"It's not true. It's not true. It can't be true. I'd never… I'd never get with… With  _Granger_. Besides, she fancies Weaselbee… She fancies Weaselbee. It's not true. What does that stupid author who wrote the book know? Nothing. His only evidence is a children's story. It's probably not even true; it's most likely made up. It's not true…"

"Boy's aren't allowed in here." A girlish, mournful voice said. Draco jumped and turned to see a ghost he'd never seen before, who seemed to be around his age when she had died. Her hair was in bunches and she wore glasses like Potter's.

"Who are you?" Draco asked her, somewhat rudely.

"I'm Myrtle… Who are you?" The ghost, Myrtle, said somewhat suspiciously.

"Draco Malfoy."

"What are you doing in here, Draco Malfoy?"

"I had to get away from the crowd; there's been a lot on my mind recently." Draco frowned, not willing to say any more.

"Like what?"

"No offense, Myrtle, but I don't really want to talk about it." Draco replied stiffly, composing his thoughts.

"Talking is therapeutic." Myrtle insisted, floating closer to him.

And so, Draco reluctantly told her everything. He explained what the Dark Lord had told him to do, what had happened to Granger, the deal he had struck with the Mudblood, the problem that had occurred with the Vanishing Cabinet, and on top of it all, the thing he had read about him being Granger's… being Granger's… soul mate. It felt strangely good to get it all off his chest, though it was hard to get the last words out of his mouth.

"… But it can't be true… it can't, right?" Draco looked at the ghost.

"I don't know." Said Myrtle defensively. "I think I can hear her though, or at least, I did once. And I think I can help with your Vanishing Cabinet. Slughorn was bragging last night about how he was going to get a new shipment of Yetisol Azurae- he will show it off at his annual Slug Club Christmas Party."

Draco cursed. "If I was in the Slug Club I could get in, but I'm not…"

"Hm…" Myrtle was quiet for a second, merely watching him through her round-rimmed glasses, and then she gave him one last piece of advice. "Maybe he'll let you in if you're in his really good books."

"Yes!" Draco's face brightened. "Thanks Myrtle, so much! You are the best! I'll see you later." The ghost blushed, and Draco rushed out of the bathroom as the bells rang, signalling his next lesson.

* * *

From that day onwards Draco behaved as well as he could in Potions, trying to get into Slughorn's good books. He wrote homework as well as he could, including as much information as possible. He was easily the best behaved person in his class, now that Granger was gone.

However, all of Draco's efforts were futile. He was effortlessly overshadowed by Potter and his suddenly amazing Potions skills that had blossomed over the summer. How had Potter gotten so good, so fast? He hadn't had tutor lessons over the summer, because Potter lived in a Muggle community… so how? He sneaked a look over to where Potter and Weasley were stationed. Potter was keeping an eye on Slughorn, while Weasley copied from Potter's textbook. That did not make sense. Potter's book was the same as everybody else's, so why would Potter's be worth copying from? Unless… At the start of the year, Potter had not bought a book. He'd ordered one and used a spare from the cupboard in the meantime, an old and scrappy one. Draco's eyes widened. Could it be possible…? Had Potter gotten a textbook that had been written on by another student? It was easy to copy the knowledge into his new textbook, and then claim all alterations as his own work. It would explain everything… The dirty, rotten, half-blooded, uptight, stupid, undependable, lying, cheating son of a Banshee! In anger, Draco crushed a part of the chopped Chinese Chomping Cabbage that he was holding in his hand.

"Woah, you okay Malfoy?" Zabini asked.

"Yeah… Fine." Draco said tightly, going to get another from the cupboard.

It didn't help him that Granger had disappeared. Draco hadn't seen neither hide nor hair of her since Gryffindor had won that Quidditch match.  _Probably sat sulking in an abandoned room somewhere crying over the fact that she couldn't be with Weaselbee,_  Draco thought bitterly.  _Well, I don't need her. She can't help me much anyway._ Draco could fix the Vanishing Cabinet all by himself.

* * *

As it turned out, Draco couldn't get into Slughorn's good books. He'd heard that you could get into the party by helping out, but there was no way Draco was waiting on Potter and his lackeys. Zabini was going, but there was no way of getting Zabini to steal some Yetisol Azurae without being forced to tell him why, or what was in it for him. Granger was still AWOL, and Myrtle couldn't touch anything, so that left out ghost intervention. _Accio_ depended on the skill of the castor, which Draco wasn't so sure about. It left one option… to sneak in.

So that was why Draco was dressed in all black, darting from shadow to shadow, trying to keep out of people's views. Of course, he was wearing a suit, in case he actually made it to the Slug Club, so that he would fit into the crowd. But it was black so that he would also mix with the shadows, if any Prefects were patrolling the corridor… Not that he'd be able to hide very well with his pale complexion and light blonde hair. Draco guessed that, had Granger been here, she would make a comment about something Muggle that Draco wouldn't understand. _But Granger isn't here, was she? She's still sulking_ , Draco tutted, and darted to another shadow.

"Mew." Draco froze and turned. He was Mrs Norris watching him with that creepy gaze of hers. He swore. A second later, Filch came rounding the corner.

"What have you found, my dear?" He asked his beloved cat, and he looked up, smiling through half rotten teeth. "My, my, you are in trouble, aren't you?" He cackled. "Out of bounds after hours…"

"I was going to Professor Slughorn's Christmas Party. I was invited, but I got caught up." Draco snapped, only half-lying. "I don't see how that is a problem."

"Let's just see about that, shall we?" Filch smirked and grabbed Draco by the ear, dragging him to the unsuspecting Slug Club.

* * *

"Professor Slughorn," wheezed Filch, his bulging eyes glowing with a bitter delight, "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him with an invitation?"

Draco quickly pulled himself free of Filch's grip, looking furious.

"All right, I wasn't invited!" He said angrily. "I was trying to gate-crash, happy?"

"No, I'm not!" said Filch, a statement at complete odds with the glee on his face. "You're in trouble, you are! Didn't the Headmaster say that night-time prowling's out, unless you've got permission, didn't he, eh?"

"That's all right, Argus, that's all right," said Slughorn, waving a hand. "It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay, Draco."

Filch's expression of outraged disappointment was perfectly predictable, but now Draco was unhappy. Now that he had been discovered, it would be more difficult to snatch Yeti-Zur from under Slughorn's nose. If the man caught him, would he be as forgiving? Filch turned and shuffled away, muttering under his breath, and so Draco composed his face into a smile and thanked Slughorn for his generosity.

"It's nothing, nothing," said Slughorn, waving away his thanks. "I did know your grandfather, after all…"

"He always spoke very highly of you, sir," said Draco quickly. "Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known…"

"I'd like a word with you, Draco." Said Professor Snape suddenly. Draco hadn't even noticed him there.

"Oh, now, Severus," said Slughorn, hiccoughing, "It's Christmas, don't be too hard-"

"I'm his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be," said Snape curtly. "Follow me, Draco."

They left, Snape leading the way, Draco feeling resentful of being taken out of the party before he could carry out his plan. The Professor led him to an old classroom that had obviously been left for years, considering the amount of dust on all of the desks.

"Draco…" Snape began, shaking his head slowly. "Sit down."

Draco sat.

"What has happened so far this term, Draco… It was foolish to try to break into Professor Slughorn's office this night, not to mention what happened to Miss Bell earlier this year... you cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled-"

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?"

"I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it."

"Who suspects me?" Draco said, covering fear with anger. "For the last time, I didn't do it, okay? That Bell girl must've had an enemy no one knows about- don't look at me like that!" Draco felt him trying to invade his mind, rid all of his thoughts of Hermione, and placed a blockade around his mind. "I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work- I can stop you!"

"Ah… Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?"

"I'm not trying to conceal anything from  _him_ ; I just don't want  _you_  butting in!" Moreover, he didn't want Snape knowing that he was helping Granger, his  _enemy_ , a Mudblood. Especially when Snape had apparently put her in that situation in the first place.

"So that has been why you have been avoiding me this term? You have feared my interference? You realise that, had anybody else failed to come to my office when I had told them repeatedly to be there, Draco-"

"So put me in detention! Report me to Dumbledore!" Draco jeered, not caring at all.

Snape paused, and then said, "You know perfectly well that I do not wish to do either of those things."

"You'd better stop telling me to come to your office, then!"

"Listen to me," Snape said, striding forward to him, anger seeping through the air around him. "I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco-"

"Looks like you'll have to break it then, because I don't need your protection! It's my job, he gave it to me and I'm doing it. I've got a plan and it's going to work, it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!"

"What is your plan?"

"It's none of your business!" Draco snapped, looking away from him. He shouldn't be butting in, not now…

"If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist you-"

"I've got all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm not alone!" Draco replied, trying to keep a level head. It was true. He had Granger, the smartest witch of his age. He needed nobody else to help him, especially not Snape.

"You were certainly alone tonight, which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or back-up. These are elementary mistakes-"

"I would've had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn't put them in detention!" Draco yelled, his temper getting the better of him.

"Keep your voice down." Spat Snape, "If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing at pres-"

"What does it matter? Defense Against the Dark Arts- it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like any of us need protecting against the Dark Arts-"

"It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance on assistants like Crabbe and Goyle-"

"They're not the only ones; I've got other people on my side, better people!"  _Better people than you._

"Then why not confide in me, and I can-"

"I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!"

Snape paused once more, before speaking coldly. "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but-"

Draco wanted to yell at him, _no, it's not that... well… it's partly that, but I don't need help, nor want it from the person that split Hermione Granger's soul from her body!_

Draco froze.

Why did he think that? Was that why he so suddenly distrustful of Snape? It couldn't be. Clearly, he couldn't care less about Granger's predicament, he only hung around with her because she was smart and could help him, he had no feelings for her but hate and resentment… right? He turned, and pushed the door open, striding out of the room, and rushing away.

He had to sort his life out.


	11. Over Christmas

" _Love is whatever you can still betray. Betrayal can only happen if you love._ " ~John le Carre **  
**

* * *

Draco's homecoming was met by different reactions by different people. His mother, who had fretted over him during his entire autumn term, showered him with love and affection, though most of it was unrequited. The Dark Lord paid great interest to him, questioning him deeply at first on his newest follower's task, how far he had gotten, and how close he was to completing it, so on and so forth, though Voldemort's true interest was how close he was getting to taking over Hogwarts.

When the Dark Lord heard of the mishap with the poison, he had been… less than pleased. Draco's Aunt Bellatrix had, of course, pounced on the opportunity to reprimand her nephew and offered to teach him the Dark Ways. ' _Double-coat_ ', ' _Imperius_ ' and ' _secrecy_ ' were the words she was most often heard whispering to him in the dark hallways of Malfoy Manor.

Draco never once mentioned Hermione Granger, and neither did the Deatheaters.

One dinnertime, as the house elves were serving the main course, the Dark Lord brought up a topic that, by that time, everybody around the table had gotten bored of.

"So, Draco, any luck with your attempts to get Deatheaters into Hogwarts?"

"My Lord, I am pursuing a hint given to me about a broken Vanishing Cabinet. It is connected to a similar one in Borgin and Burkes." Draco replied diplomatically. At the Dark Lord's interested look, he reluctantly continued. "However, I have hit a slight problem. The Vanishing Cabinet cannot function properly without Yetisol-Azurae, of which I have… none."

"Oh, no matter Draco," The Dark Lord laughed lightly. "We will simply have Severus bring you some in via his Floo, which, by personal request by Dumbledore, no less, is not being monitored."

Eager to change the direction of the conversation, Draco looked around. "Say, my Lord, where is my Aunt and that other Deatheater- what is his name? Some type of monkey…"

Narcissa, Draco's mother, coughed. "Gibbon, son. His name is Gibbon."

"Yes, Gibbon, exactly." Draco nodded.

The Dark Lord smiled condescendingly at him and said vaguely, "Bellatrix is helping Gibbon with a certain thing I would like him to do."

That was the end of the conversation.

* * *

On his way back to his room, Draco had to pass by Gibbon's room, on the third floor. He paused when he heard a deep-throated grunt.

"No, no, no, you're doing it all wrong!" Came his Aunts shrill commentary. "That… That is really, really wrong!"

"Oh yeah?" Came Gibbon's voice. "Well if you think it's _so_ easy, you do it."

"Fine." His aunt sounded smug. There was a pause, and then Gibbon spoke, sounding confused.

"How did you do… _that_?"

"Like _this_."

There was another pause.

"Now that… that just makes you look like a slut." His Aunt sighed. Draco's eyes widened. He decided he didn't want to know what they were doing, and hastily retreated to his room.

* * *

The rest of the holiday was uninteresting. Draco, in his spare time, tried to search for Granger's body. He had no luck, but refused to give up, so it would seem as if he'd actually done something over the holidays.

When Draco got to Hogwarts he walked straight to the Room of Requirement to tell Hermione that he wasn't completely useless, and that he had arranged for Yetisol-Azurae to be given to them- maybe Granger had even stolen some from Slughorn while everyone was away, then they could carry on even sooner. However, when Draco had searched around the room, he came to the relation that she simply was not there. Draco was confused, until he realised that she was probably just in the library, doing what she did best- reading. Sighing, he turned and walked out of the door.

On his way to the library, Draco was forced to take a detour, since the hallway was blocked by an excited crowd that was slowly forming around Potter, Weasley and Granger. Draco was about to turn a corner when he realised what he had seen.

Potter, Weasley and Granger.

_Granger_.

Back in her body, as if nothing had happened to her. Laughing and joking with Potter and Weasley. She felt him staring, and turned to meet his silver, questioning gaze.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Granger asked coolly, narrowing her eyes at him. Draco was shocked at her rudeness, but masked it quickly with a sneer. The crowd looked at him.

"I was just wondering when you had returned, Granger." He replied.

"It's none of your business, frankly." Granger snapped. Draco's eyebrows rose. Even before 'The Incident', Granger had never spoken to him as she just had.

"Hermione…" Potter looked at her worriedly. The girls brown eyes went wide, and then she began to sniffle.

"I'm sorry, Harry." She said pathetically, "It's just… He knows when I… when I escaped. He knew where I was the… the w… whole time!" She burst out crying, and Weaselbee shot Draco a glare that could kill, pulling her into a comforting hug. Similar expressions rippled through the crowd.

"Shove off, Malfoy." Ron growled, through clenched teeth.

"Careful Brown doesn't see you two like that, Won-Won." Draco hissed, turning on his heel and storming off. He wasn't going to the library now. There was no point. Granger was back to normal. It was clear she didn't need his help anymore, and even more so that she did not want it.

* * *

When Draco got back to his dormitory, he found it empty. On his crisp, newly washed duck-feathered pillows was a book, flicked open to a page. One look at the chapters sub-title told him what it was. 'Paranormalcy in The Wizarding World: Ghosts A-Z' lay there, silently mocking him.

_She doesn't need you anymore_ , the book seemed to whisper.  _She hates you again. You mean nothing to her. She will not help you. You're on your own now. She hates you. She is disgusted by you. She despises…_

"SHUT UP!" Draco yelled loudly, drowning out the tome's mocking tone. He picked up the book and threw it against the nearby wall with as much force as he could muster. He was rewarded with the sound of a deep thud as it collided with its target.

Draco collapsed on his newly made bed heavily, suddenly exhausted, and placed his head in his hands. Why was he so affected by what had happened less than five minutes ago? If anything, he should be happy Granger was back as she had once been, it was less for him to worry about, and one thing he didn't have to do this year. He had enough on his plate without Granger's problems being dumped on him as well.

So why did he feel so betrayed? So lonely? So… angry? What had been that churning feeling in the pit of his stomach when Granger had glared at him so coldly that her gaze had been like ice? When Weasley had held her like he had? What was going on? Draco sighed and closed his eyes, trying to put Granger to the back of his mind… Why did he care? She was back now; he never had to speak to her again! So… why did that bother him?

He felt as if he had only closed his eyes for a second, but when he opened them, the candles in his dormitory were lit, signalling that night had fallen around the castle. For a second he wondered what had woken him up, he felt as if he could had slept for years without waking, but then he saw Zabini standing in front of him, holding that infernal book by one of its covers, swinging it back and fore.

"This yours?" He asked impatiently. Draco nodded.

"Throw it in my trunk." Draco replied sleepily, and Zabini rolled his eyes. Draco was barely able to get undressed and get under the covers of his bed, drawing his emerald bed curtains shut, before he curled up into a ball, squeezing his eyes together tightly and letting the blissful sleep reclaim him.


	12. Page 394

" _Don't make assumptions. Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life._ " ~Miguel-Angel-Ruiz

* * *

Draco could not care less about that Hermione Granger. I mean, what self-respecting Slytherin would? Especially since that insufferable know-it-all had used him, and she couldn't care less about it. No. Draco did not care about her at all.

That didn't mean, of course, that he didn't notice her, or hear all of the gossip that was about her. It was impossible not to. The two of them shared almost every single class, and everybody wanted to know everything about what happened to her. During lessons, she blushed and kept her head down; but she never seemed to be doing her work, she just… sat there. Head bent down over a blank piece of parchment. Barely moving, unless a teacher asked her a question. Then, she would look up, blink a couple of times, and then answer the question, perfectly as usual, despite not following the lesson plan…

Outside class, however, she was happy to answer all the questions the curious and adoring public had for her.

"Hermione? Hermione? Where have you been, Hermione? Did Voldemort kidnap you? How did you get away? Is it true you were actually in Bulgaria with Viktor Krum? Did you miss Hogwarts? Are you glad to be back? Did you get hurt? Did somebody come and rescue you? Hermione? Hermione?" Was the chorus that echoed throughout the halls.

Hermione's answers were short, to the point, and, most of all,  _lies_.

"I have been in Malfoy Manor for the past six months." Now, Draco you didn't know whether this one was true of not; her body _could_ have been in Malfoy Manor, but why wouldn't she mention how she had been, spiritually, in Hogwarts the whole time? It wasn't like she should be embarrassed about it!

"Yes, Voldemort did kidnap me."  _Okay, so maybe that one was true too…_ Draco admitted silently

"One night, one of the Deatheaters forgot to lock my door. I snuck out, found my wand, and got out of there as soon as I could." Maybe a Deatheater could forget to lock a door, but how had she gotten back into her body in the first place?

"No, I was not with Viktor! I have not seen Viktor for years!"  _Maybe that one could have been true as well, I don't know Viktor Krum's private life..._  Draco thought grudgingly.

"Of course I missed Hogwarts. I am glad to be back."  _You never really left!_

"Nobody came to rescue me. Nobody tried to help me. I had no aid… Nobody could have helped me." This statement hurt Draco the most. Somebody had helped her.  _He_  had helped her. Was that so hard to admit, that Draco Malfoy had helped her when nobody else could?

Draco couldn't help but wonder, what had happened to the Granger that he had spent the entire first term of school with? The Granger who had hit him with books when he said something too mean, the Granger who had scoffed at his little snide comments in class, the Granger who offered to watch him eat ice cream when he was feeling down? It had all been an act. An act that Draco had foolishly fallen for. She'd acted friendly just so that she could have help. She'd have made a perfect Slytherin.

One day, after sitting in History of Magic for an hour, watching as Granger slumped over her desk, dead to the world ( _Hah. Dead to the world. Isn't that what people call irony?_ Draco thought to himself), Draco decided that he had had enough. As soon as the bells rung through the room, signalling the end of class, he left, and went to the place where he was least likely to hear about Granger - his bedroom.

When Draco finally arrived at the dormitory, it was quiet. Everybody else was either outside in the cold, crisp air, or cramming for a test Snape had hinted at earlier in the day. Nobody had been in the room since they had gotten up this morning. Draco narrowed his eyes.  _If that's so… Then how did that get there?_

He was referring, of course, to the object that sat neatly on his bed, as it had exactly one month ago.

Sat on the bed, as if it had never moved, was 'Paranormalcy in the Wizarding World: Ghosts A-Z'. It was probably opened to the same page as well - Draco hated that stupid book, the one about what had happened to Granger, the thing Draco had left in the very bottom of his trunk, because looking at it only reminded him she hated him… Who had taken it out?

Draco scowled. He was about to throw the book back into his trunk, where it belonged, when something caught his eye. One word. One single word. That was all it took, to capture his curiosity and make him pause.

"Hijacking." He read aloud. "Hijacking?" He picked up the book, and his eyes flicked over the page quickly, barely reading the sentences. "Turn to page three… nine… four…" Slowly, he flicked to the pages. Oh. That story. The story that decreed that Draco and Granger were soul mates. "How ridiculous." Draco muttered, but read through the passage anyways, figuring that if somebody had left this on his bed it had to be for a reason. His eyes scanned the pages, eyes widening as the story continued. At the end of the paragraph, his mouth dropped open unceremoniously, and the book fell from his hands.

Ignoring him. Ignoring what had happened in the first term of school. Lying. Not working in class. Not acting like herself… It all made sense now. Thanks to the book, it all made sense.

"That isn't Granger."

* * *

Hermione Granger slumped across the railings of the Astronomy tower, sighing and watching the full, white moon as it slowly crawled across the jet black sky.

"What's the point?" She asked it, feeling slightly crazy that she was talking to the moon, but… nobody else could talk to her, could they? She felt alone, alienated, even more so than she had at the beginning of the school year. Why was that? Oh, yeah. In the beginning, Hermione had thought she  _was_  alone. It was worse now she knew she didn't have to be alone, and yet being ignored by the only person she could talk to. "What is the point of doing anything?" She had tried to get help, but… it was like she was on a desert island, and her message-in-a-bottle had floated back, unopened. "Twice. Twice I left the book, and…"  _Nothing. Not a single thought on it._  She knew he'd ignored it, ignored _her_ , because he hadn't come looking for her. If he cared, he would have come to help. But he hadn't.  _He hasn't._

She blamed the one parading around in her body. She hadn't quite worked it out just yet, but she had already estimated they were a Deatheater…  _What if Draco's in on it?_  It made so much sense. He was a Deatheater - the pretend-her was a Deatheater - they could plan together, right? That was why he hadn't looked for her!

She thrust her head into her hands with a muffled sob. Hadn't everything been going perfectly? Hadn't their alliance been working out? It had been for her, anyways. Company… Help… Helping him in return… What had gone wrong?  _What went wrong? What did I do wrong?_

"Granger?" Hermione froze at the sound of her surname. Nobody knew she was- oh, wait… There was another Hermione Granger now. They were probably looking for the other one. "Granger?" She ignored the voice, and continued to stare at the moon forlornly. "Look, it's after hours and I have spent at least thirty minutes searching this entire castle for you. So by Merlin if you ignore me I'll just go back to the dorms and leave you to sulk in your Mudbloodiness."

"That isn't a word." She said carelessly, forgetting for a moment the person couldn't hear her.

"Of course it's not." The person chuckled dryly, joining her beside the railing. "Trust you to correct me on that. What phrase would you rather me use, huh? How about grumpiness? Or selfishness?"

She spluttered. "Selfishness? I am not selfish, Draco Malfoy." She turned her head to glare at him, and there he was, lazily leaning over the edge of the Astronomy Tower, his platinum hair not covered in gel for once, and hanging around his face. His striking grey eyes peered at her, amused.

"Really? Then where have you been all month?" He looked away. "I had no clue until this evening that you were… that she was… that there was another Hermione Granger, a  _fake_  Hermione Granger going around Hogwarts. I thought she was you… that you were ignoring me, forgetting… last term." He coughed, and Hermione frowned.

"I thought you knew. I left the book for you. Twice. I thought you had worked it out." She said quietly.

"No…" His eyes widened. "Did you… Did you read page three-nine-four then?"

"First of all, it's not three-nine-four; it's three hundred and ninety-four. Secondly… No, I didn't. I only read the part about hijacking somebody's uninhabited body and that was on page five hundred and forty-nine." Hermione replied, then raised her eyebrows. "Why? What was on page three hundred and ninety-four?"

"Nothing… Nothing…" A tinge of pink appeared around the teenage boy's cheeks, and Hermione wondered if he was blushing. She resisted the urge to giggle, and then wondered why she wanted to giggle in the first place. They stared at the moon for a while longer, before Hermione let a sigh escape her.

"What am I going to do, Malfoy?" She asked. "What do I… w-what do I d-d-d- _do_!?" Halfway through her sentence, she burst into tears. Malfoy blinked once, twice, and then attempted to comfort her, even though he couldn't really touch her, since his hand kept passing through her.

"Sssh… Sssh… It'll be okay." Malfoy murmured. "Everything will be okay. According to page three-nine-four…"

"Three hundred and ninety-four, M-Malfoy…" She sniffed, her nose running.

"First off, that thing your nose is doing? It's gross. Stop it." She glared at him, before chuckling somewhat half-heartedly. "Second, I think we both know I don't care how you say the page number." She rolled her eyes. "Third, and last, I was saying something comforting. If you don't want me to help, all you have to do is say."

"No… I'm fine with you helping." Hermione whispered.

"Pardon?"

"I'm fine with you helping."

"What's that? I can't quite hear you Granger…" He tilted his head sideways, and held his hand up to his ear.

"Malfoy." She stared at him, unimpressed.

"Okay, okay." He backed off. "But, it's okay. Everything's going to be fine. We will research for a way to fix this mess. There has to be some way to do it." He smiled comfortingly at her, and she smiled back. "Everything's going to be fine, Hermione."

"What?"

"What?"

"You just called me Hermione." Hermione said slowly.

"What? No I didn't." Draco shook his head.

"Yes you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Draco, you did. You called me Hermione."

"What?"

"What?"

"You just called me Draco." Draco said, incredulously.

"What? No I didn't." Hermione shook her head.

"Yes you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Hermione, you did. You called me Dra- this is going around in circles, isn't it?" Draco deadpanned, and Hermione laughed.

"I did call you Draco, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"And… You called me Hermione." He nodded in confirmation. "That's… okay, right? It doesn't freak you out a bit?"

"What? No it doesn't freak me out- why, does it freak you out?" Draco asked, the words coming out in a frantic jumble. Hermione shook her head.

"It's fine by me..." She said, and looked back out at the moon. "Draco."

_Maybe I was wrong about what I had thought… maybe I'm not alone, after all..._


	13. Snow

" _The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?_ " ~J. B. Priestley

* * *

Hermione watched attentively as Draco slowly tried to fit the Yetisol Azurae into its narrow slot. Snape had retrieved it for them, and now Draco was placing it in so that they could continue working on the cabinet. A shadow of a smile unconsciously drifted across her face, as a bead of sweat worked its way from the line of his perfect platinum hair, and past his focused grey eyes that seemed to shine silver in the light. Her eyes were glued to it as the liquid moved around his pale, thin lips that were pursed tight in concentration. When it got to his firm, chiseled jaw, Draco swiped it off his face with a quick flick, and Hermione looked away, blushing crimson.  _What the- What am I thinking?_  She shook her head free of distracting thoughts, and looked down at the guidebook she often held open when they were working on the Vanishing Cabinet.

"A little to the right, Draco!" She called out, looking up swiftly. He grunted in annoyance.

"Back off, Hermione. I can do this on my own." He snapped, and she snorted.  _Men._  Putting the book down, she turned and floated through the piles of junk that lay in the room. Hermione hadn't thought about the other objects in the room up until this point- when they had been looking for the Vanishing Cabinet, she hadn't focused on them. There were all kinds of objects in there, and she was sure if she looked around hard enough, and for long enough, she could find something that dated back to the time of Merlin! After a while, she came across a picture, a painted picture which, like all pictures in the Wizarding world, moved. It was the scene of a small blue bird hopping around green foliage. Every so often it would whistle a four-note melody.  _Strange,_  Hermione mused,  _I've never heard this before, and I've been in here often… Perhaps it only sings when somebody is in proximity?_  She tentatively held her hand out and brushed her fingers over the rough, yet strangely smooth at the same time, surface. Alarmed, the bird hopped off the branch, and flew out of the painting somewhere else. That was when she noticed the light filtering through the painting-not just from the painting, but behind it. Carefully, she picked up the canvas and placed it elsewhere. When she saw what had been behind the painting, her face lit up.

"Done!" Draco called from behind her. "What did I say? All by myself. Done."

"It's snowing!" Hermione breathed, grinning as she looked through the window. The snow outside fall gracefully into a lump somewhere in the countryside.

"It's winter!" Draco replied sarcastically. He turned to look at her, but she had disappeared. "Hermione? Where have you…" He groaned.

* * *

"Hermione. You do not leave when a person is in the middle of a sentence… what are you doing?" Draco cut his reprimanding off when he saw Hermione laying down on the ground throwing her arms and legs around randomly. "Are you having a fit?"

"No!" She laughed gleefully. "I'm making a snow angel!" She got up, and looked down, grinning at the indentation in the snow, which looked more like a starfish than an angel. She didn't mind, though.

"That's… Completely idiotic." Draco shook his head sadly. "You have really gone down in my expectations." With that, he turned around and began the trek back up to the castle. Hermione smirked at his retreating back, and bent down on the ground.

Draco froze when he felt the wet substance hit his back. He turned, and glared at the ghost girl, who was floating innocently by a pile of snow.

"Did you just… throw a snowball… at me?" He asked lowly. Hermione paused, and nodded. He raised his eyebrows, then scooped up some snow and hurled it at her… Of course, Hermione being a ghost, it just went through her. She burst out laughing and chucked another snowball at him. "Hey! That's no fair!" He pointed out. She just laughed. He picked up another, as if trying again would automatically bend physics.

As he threw snowball after snowball at her, Hermione just smiled warmly and shook her head at his childishness. "Draco, give up, it's no use. Make a snowman, or something, instead."

"No!" He wailed. "If you can hit me with a snowball, I can hit you with a snowball!"

Hermione laughed, and Draco glared at her. He continued to throw snowballs at her for the next hour, before he began to shiver. Hermione sighed.

"Draco, you're going to catch a cold."

"W…Wrong." Draco argued. "I've alr… ready gotten...n…n...a- a- a- _achoo_!" He sneezed. "But I'm n…n…not going in…n…n until you g…get sno…o…snow on you." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You're such an idiot, Draco."

"Sh…Shut… U-u-u…p!" He grumbled, rubbing his arms. "F…F…Fine." He smiled shakily and turned to start walking back to the castle. "Y…Your fault any…way." Hermione couldn't figure the rest of the sentence, though she heard something about her not even being able to feel cold. She smiled, as he turned and asked if she was coming, or if she was just going to float there, smug at being immune to pneumonia. Though he generally acted like a spoilt brat- okay, he almost always acted like a spoilt brat- it was times like this when Hermione thought that maybe, if he'd been brought up without social prejudice, that Draco would have been an okay guy. As it was, even with his attitude, they were still getting along well, and the Vanishing Cabinet was going to be complete any day. She hoped they would still be friends when both of their problems were solved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bad filler episode is bad. I was in a really wintery mood when I wrote this, and I wanted to show that they were becoming more friendly together. (Also, it's ironic that this it the chapter that I took longer to update with on here, since it's the chapter that I originally posted after a yearish of hiatus on ff.net!)


	14. Confrontation

" _I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporatily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant._ " ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

* * *

"Draco, I understand that you want to do this independently, but I would sleep a lot better at night if I knew what it is you need this for." Snape drawled. Draco scowled. He needed to finish the cabinet, he didn't have time to stand here in the dark, damp room that Professor Snape called his office, conversing with his greasy, introverted godfather.

"I have a plan." Draco growled, taking the carefully wrapped brown package from the ex-Potions Master and turning to leave.

"Draco, you don't have to do this alone," Snape warned. "In fact, I insist…"

"I'm not doing this alone." Draco snapped. "I have help." With that, he strode to the door and left, shutting the door harshly in his wake.

* * *

As Draco walked the stone corridors, he noticed how quiet it was. Almost nobody was in the halls, apart from a couple of first years, who scattered away like frightened mice upon spotting him. He supposed it was because of the time of year. It was beginning to warm up again, since it was early spring, and people were anxious to get outside without having coats and scarves and hats piled on them. Draco, of course, had more important things to do.

He had spent two weeks tracking Slughorns' movements, and could say with confidence that he knew Slughorns' usual schedule. Currently, he would be down in the Three Broomsticks, helping himself to a shot or three of Firewhisky. Therefore, now was the perfect time to slip into his office and place the package among the Professors' alcohol collection. While the plan was vague and depended on a lot of things out of his control, Draco hoped that upon waking in the morning, Slughorn would believe that he had been saving it as a gift for Dumbledore. And when Dumbledore drank the alcohol Draco had purchased, he would discover that it was poisoned, and then he would die!

Draco turned to the next corridor on his way to Merridews' old office, and almost got sent flying by another person who was hurry past him. He put his hand out quickly and stopped them, intent on lecturing them on watching where they were going.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing; you could have…" He stopped and narrowed his eyes. "You." It was fake-Hermione. Before he could think about what he was doing, he had pushed the impostor against the wall, and pinned them there by their shoulders. He growled, "Who the hell are you?"

"W-what are you talking about, Malfoy? Get your hands off me!" Fake-Hermione squeaked. If Draco didn't know better, he would think he'd made a mistake and that this was the real Hermione. But of course, he did know better.

"You and I both know that the Mudblood's soul was taken from her body before the beginning of the school year." Draco snapped. "So who the hell are you parading around as her?"

"I wasn't aware you knew about that, Malfoy." The change in fake-Hermione's voice was immediate and chilling. It went from a timid school girl, to the sneering hiss of a grown man. It made Draco feel uneasy- the voice just didn't fit the mouth it came out of. "I don't believe you were there, so how would you know?"

"I have my sources." Draco replied in a vague manner. "What's going on?"

"My job here is classified here, brat." Fake-Hermione barked back. "You don't need to know."

"Well, can I at least know who you are?"

"...I suppose. It's Gibbon, boy, and I think it's best that you focus on your own task. I don't think it would be good for your family if both your father, and yourself were failures. It wouldn't please the Dark Lord." Gibbon smirked. Draco noted how strange it was to see it on Hermione's facial features. It was like looking at an alien. "Remember what awaits you, should you fail." Solemnly, Draco nodded. Gibbon shifted, as though he'd gotten an idea. "But... why are you so interested in the Mudblood? You know, the Dark Lord has no need for Blood Traitors."

"I'm no Blood Traitor." Draco hissed quickly, tightening his grip against Gibbon's robes.

"Hermione?" A new voice called from down the hallway. Both Draco and Gibbon turned their heads to face the newcomers. Potter and Weasley came into sight, and their expressions turned deadly when they saw the pair.

"Malfoy! Get your ferret hands off of her!" Weasley yelled, outraged. Draco barely registered him speaking before the ginger blur that was Weasley practically flew forward and punched him firmly in the nose. Draco swore and stood back, apprehensively touching it, and wincing internally when it stung. Weasley grabbed his still closed fist and cursed, feeling it throb.

"Ron! Are you okay?" Gibbon gasped, once again assuming the role, and voice, of Hermione, like he was putting on a mask. "C'mon, let's get you to the hospital wing." The two walked down the hallway, but Potter stayed behind.

After a minute, Draco looked up and saw Pothead staring from a distance. He glared. "What do you want, Potter?"

"...What are you doing, Malfoy?"

"Holding my nose and trying to stem the blood flow, what does it look like?" Draco asked sarcastically. "As soon as we're done 'talking' I can go to Madame Pomfrey and get it fixed. I think the Blood Traitor broke it."

"No, I mean…" Potter seemed to be thinking. "Why did you press Hermione up against the wall?"

Draco could have choked on his own spit. He wondered if he should warn him- they'd never been friends, but... Hermione was Pothead's friend. And she obviously felt worried that they thought Gibbon was her. When he got his breath back, he managed to say, "That isn't her."

"Huh?"

"That isn't her. She's an impostor."

"Are you talking about Hermione? That isn't a funny joke Malfoy." Potter narrowed his eyes. "She's just come back from a horrible experience, in your own manor, and now it's finally over, you won't let it be. You're just trying to make everything worse for her! I don't know what you've been up to this year, but whatever it is, don't drag Hermione into it!" Potter stalked off, like the drama queen he was.

Draco muttered to himself. "It's too late. She already is."

"Oh, Draco." Draco jumped, but didn't complain when Hermione appeared behind him, seemingly from nowhere, and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

"How long where you there?" He asked warily.

"Long enough. Thank you for trying to warm him, at least." Hermione smiled at him, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt like his now-swollen nose was worth it. Delivering the poisoned alcohol could wait until later.


	15. Crushes and Falling

_"I enjoy writing about people falling in love, probably because I think the first time you fall in love is the first time that you have to figure out how you're going to orient your life. What are you going to value? What's going to be most important to you? And I think that's really interesting to write about."_ ~John Green

* * *

"And you should have seen the look on Lavenders' face!" Hermione giggled as she recounted something that had happened earlier on in the day. "When Ron said that... It deserves her right, she always annoyed me, the way she would always cling to Ron like he was her property…"

"Hermione, we're here to work, not gossip." Draco reminded her sarcastically, as he placed the apple into the Vanishing Cabinet and closed the door. The two were in the Room of Requirement again, Draco stood by the cabinet, getting everything ready for a test, and Hermione draped on top of a ebony dresser. When she moved, it wobbled, as it was piled precariously on top of several old desks. While Draco's face was set with determination, for once Hermione seemed more carefree, due to what she had seen not an hour earlier, when she had visited Ron in the Hospital Wing. All she had known was that he had been poisoned somehow, and had rushed there to make sure he was okay.

"I know. Sorry." Hermione nodded. She paused slightly, before beginning again. "I mean, I hate that Gibbon person for taking over my body, but he has  _sass_! He was there, watching over Ron, and then Lavender ran in, like the main character in a horror movie, and said 'What is she doing here?'..."

"Hermione." Draco decided not to ask what a horror movie was.

"... So then she says 'I happen to be his girlfriend,' and Gibbon replies 'Well I happen to be his… friend'."

"Hermione." Draco raised an eyebrow.

"And then Ron mumbled my name in his sleep, and Lavender was  _so_  mad that she just ran away in a huff. Serves her right, that…"

"Hermione!" Draco snapped.

"Huh?" She stopped her rant, floating down to the floor.

"Look." Draco pointed to the now open Vanishing Cabinet. He had been waiting for quite a few minutes, and was sure that he had left enough time for the apple to have traveled to Borgin and Burkes and back. Upon Hermione's inspection, she realised that the apple was indeed there, but this time it had a bite out of it. "The Vanishing Cabinet works, Hermione!" Hermione turned to look at him, and they both burst into large smiles.

They had come such a long way. The old, decrepit antique they had discovered half the way through the autumn term was now a fully functioning Vanishing Cabinet. Their relationship had come a long way too, Hermione thought happily. Long gone where the two anti-social students who glared at each other and shot insults across the room like spells. She rushed forward to give him an encouraging hug. Even though he knew in the back of his mind he couldn't touch her, Draco hugged her back.

"This is it, Draco! You're halfway there. Now all we have to do is test it with a living creature." Hermione cheered, pulling away from him and gifting him with a dazzling grin. "We should celebrate!"

"Yeah." Draco agreed. Then, he had a thought about what the ghost had been talking about earlier. "Hey, Hermione?"

"What is it, Draco?"

"So… I'm not good with all this relationship stuff, but does the fact Weaslbee muttered your name in his sleep mean he fancies you?" Draco wasn't quite sure why he said it, and he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"I… Well it might just mean he's worried about me, but… I guess it's probable!" Hermione's chocolate eyes sparkled, and Draco felt his chest tighten. Why did he suddenly feel like he wanted to throw up? It wasn't like he cared.

Hermione, however, felt confused. Shouldn't the fact that Ron could like her back make her happy? She felt the same as she had a minute ago. Did the fact that she felt nothing mean that she didn't love Ron as much as she had thought? But... seeing him kiss Lavender all those months ago had made her feel so sad. And why did Draco look constipated?  _Come to think of it…_

"Why was Weasley in the Hospital Wing anyway?" Draco asked casually.

"Because there was poison in the mead he drank." Hermione explained. "Slughorn had given it to him; nobody had any idea that it was…" The rest of her words drowned out, as Draco's blood turned to ice.

"Hermione…" Draco's voice was small. "I know how Slughorn got it. I snuck it into his collection around two months ago. He was meant to…"

"You?" A cold shiver ran through Hermione's entire ectoplasm. "You tried to… to _poison_ Ron?"

"What? No! It was meant for…" Before Draco could finish his sentence, Hermione had faded away, a look of horror and dismay on her features, leaving Draco to his thoughts.

He knew better than to go after her.

* * *

As he walked from the Room of Requirement down to the Great Hall for dinner, he started to think.

Hermione Granger was so confusing. She seemed happy the one moment, and angry the next, like a cat whose tail was stepped on. Ever since first year, he, Draco Malfoy, had taken pleasure in her sadness and had, upon retrospect, bullied her. In the Muggle world, people stupidly taught their daughters that if boys were being mean, it was because they thought the girl was cute, and wanted to get her attention. Any other Mudblood would had thought he'd been hiding a crush, but Hermione hadn't accepted it and had acted as if his taunts were below her, as if he was below her, and that had annoyed him more than anything.

She wasn't perfect. Her hair was too frizzy, and she wasn't very tall, and she wasn't the thinnest girl in school. But that didn't mean she wasn't beautiful, especially when she laughed. She didn't take any of Draco's shit. She could, and would, tell him exactly what she thought and wasn't afraid to prove her point. She never backed down from a challenge and was far too stubborn for her own good. He enjoyed the fierce debates they had had throughout the year.

But still, there was no way that Draco actually liked Hermione. Hermione was a Muggleborn, a Mudblood, and no amount of intellect would ever change that.

Draco was very selfish and shallow. He'd come to terms with that. However, he believed that these qualities were to no fault of his own… perhaps this made him as arrogant as Potter was. He had been brought up on, what he now realised, were very discriminatory theories- that Muggles were animals with no principles. That the Mudbloods they spawned accidentally were only slightly more human than their parents, and that it was not possible for them to have the abilities of those born of pure magical blood. Coming to Hogwarts made Draco realise that the prejudices he had grown up with were not exactly true. He'd met Mudbloods that were far more talented, and far more humane than him or his family. Nonetheless, that did not halt the fact that his parents believed that Mudbloods were the scum of the Earth. If they even knew Draco had talked to a Mudblood civilly, they would probably have a several heart attacks, before disowning him without a penny to his name.

That book had to be joking if it thought for even a second that Hermione and he were soul mates. They were completely incompatible!

Of course, her button nose was cute, and she had good skin, and her eyes were like pools of melted chocolate. Draco couldn't help but smile internally when he saw her, and he greatly enjoyed spending time with her. The witty challenges she posed excited Draco, and he felt a strange, powerful instinct to make sure she was happy. The thought of her dating Weasley made Draco feel sick to his stomach. That didn't mean he liked Hermione, though… did it?

Suddenly, Draco could imagine him and Hermione, married after three years of dating. Their wedding being a strange mixture between Wizarding and Muggle customs, though only a couple of Muggles would attend due to the Statute of Secrecy, and Hermione would look perfect in her white gown, more beautiful than she had during the Yule Ball. Within the next decade they would have three children: two girls, and one boy, and Draco would cave to their every wish like the doting father he was. He would spoil their children rotten, and it would annoy Hermione to no end, even though secretly she found it endearing. Draco could never imagine working a day in his life, aside from taking care of his fathers' business once he passed, so he would probably stay home and look after the children. Hermione, however, wouldn't be able to bear sitting still all day, and would busy herself with a job in the Ministry, or maybe in Flourish and Botts. She'd possibly would write novels in her spare time. They would only work if they wanted to, of course0 the Malfoy fortune would be able to cover the cost of their perfect family of five perfectly, as well as any grandchildren they eventually had.

But that would never happen. No matter how perfect the reality he had created was, it wouldn't happen. Why? Because he didn't like her. Draco did not fancy Hermione Granger, the know-it-all, the teachers' pet, the daring, gorgeous best friend of the famous Pothead, who always knew what to do, and faced the world with a brave and perfect face, the…

Draco stopped short, in the middle of the hallway. He cursed. "I'm falling in love with Hermione Granger."


	16. Blood

" _Two things scare me. The first is getting hurt. But that's not nearly as scary as the second, which is losing._ " ~Lance Armstrong

* * *

Once again, Draco couldn't sleep. And, as always, it was Hermione's fault. Admitting the fact that he liked her should have made him feel better! But it just created more problems.

It was obvious Hermione had feelings for Weasley, and even though he was a blood-traitor, and poor, and a twat, Draco knew he couldn't compete against him. After all, the two had been friends since first year, and had an inseparable bond. All Draco had going for him was his money and devastatingly good looks. Oh, and a dusty old book that claimed he and Hermione were meant to be together forever.

And even if Hermione did like him back, they couldn't be together anyway. His father would hear about it, and when he did who knew what could happen to Hermione? Draco didn't want to see her get hurt. (Not to mention, Draco would probably get disowned, but he didn't even want to think about that right now.)

In order to take his mind off of the problems pressing into him, he drew his bed-curtains shut and began to read 'Ghosts A-Z' by wandlight.

' _Of course, there are few known ways of restoring the soul to its body while another possesses it. Should the imposter be a kindly person, it may be possible to negotiate their soul from the body. However, chances of that are slim. For a hostile soul, or one who cannot be negotiated to give up the body, you have to resort to rather desperate measures. A soul is still tied to its original vessel, even when they are separated. Logic follows that if the body dies, so does the soul. Therefore, if you kill the body of the imposter, the soul will have no choice but to evacuate. Of course, it is also vital for you to remember that the reverse is also possible: If somebody was to kill your body, while you were not in it, your soul would die as well, and the inhabiting soul would not, as it is not connected to your body and is merely pulling it's strings like a puppet._ '

Draco thought over his findings anxiously. "It's good that we know how to defeat Gibbon; all we need to do is find and kill his body," he whispered to himself, "but it also means that Gibbon could kill Hermione at any time and return to his own body unharmed." It was a race against time. While Draco understood the urgency of relaying this information to Hermione, sleep soon claimed him against his will, and he fell asleep, book still in his hands, and mouth slightly open.

* * *

Of course, there is one downside to staying up half the night. And that is that you end up sleeping until just before midday. Since it was a weekend, nobody in Draco's dormitory had bothered to wake him up in the morning, or even pull back the curtains. It was pretty much an unspoken rule after they had pulled the curtains back one morning to find Theo Nott and Astoria Greengrass in… a less-than-flattering position. In fact, Draco would probably have slept until late in the afternoon had it not been for his mother.

Upon his request, she had sent him a small white bird. He was going to use the bird to test the Vanishing Cabinet on living subjects. Would it be able to transport living beings safely? That was what he was going to find out today.

Anyway, Draco was woken up at quarter to twelve by the high pitched tweeting of the caged bird. Though he still felt tired, he grabbed the birds' cage and made his way to the Room of Requirement. He would tell Hermione the results later; going to find her would only waste even more time. Upon entering the large room, he hurried to the Vanishing Cabinet, opened the doors with a flourish, and released the bird. It hopped into the Cabinet, and made a full spin with a curious tweet. The doors were shut once more in a split second, and now all Draco had to do was wait.

Draco began to think through what he would tell Hermione. First, however reluctant he was, he had to apologise to her about almost murdering her best friend. Of course, he had hoped, slightly, that Weasley would die from the poisoning, but he wouldn't vocalise his wishes. After that, when she liked him again, he would explain that if they found, and killed Gibbon's body, Hermione could return to hers. Then… would he tell her how he felt?

"Of course not." Draco scoffed out loud. "You never tell a girl you like her, it just makes you look like an idiot. Besides, if I told her, it would make things awkward between us. If I can't be her boyfriend, let me at least be her friend… Wait, what?" He shook his head to get rid of the alien thoughts. "Merlin, I'm turning crazy."

He turned back to the Cabinet and opened the doors. The bird was lying at the bottom, dead. Draco's eyes widened and he shut the door quickly. He had failed.

"No… I've invested too much time in this, dammit. There has to be a way to fix this." He rushed out of the Room of Requirement. "I'll ask Hermione- she's bound to know!" As he said that, his stomach gave a loud grumble, and he realised that it was nearing one o'clock and he hadn't eaten since the night before. He decided that he would eat first, and find Hermione later.

* * *

Hermione floated next to her friends protectively, glaring daggers at Gibbon. How dare he invade her body at such a crucial stage in her friends' lives? How would Harry realise that he loved Ginny without Hermione's help? And how _dare_ Draco poison one of her best friends?! She huffed. His nerve! What made him think that he could attack the people she considered to be practically her family and get off so lightly? And Harry… he had been going back and forth to Dumbledore's office all year, and she had no idea why because she had been spending all her time with Draco.

She groaned out loud. "I'm so sorry Harry. I got side-tracked, and I didn't help you. The Vanishing Cabinet is all finished anyway, there's no way it's failed, so from now on, I won't even look in Draco's direction. I'll be completely focused on defeating Voldemort with you!" Hermione vowed, a fiery spark entering her eyes.

Unable to hear Hermione's determined speech, Harry stood up from his place at the Gryffindor table. He had realised that Katie Bell was back, and was determined to find out what had happened to her. He knew for certain that it had to be something to do with Malfoy, it just had to be!

"Katie… How are you?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"I know you're going to ask, Harry, but I don't know who cursed me. I've been trying to remember, honestly…" Katie began, but Hermione ignored her, still having not finished her speech.

"Don't worry, Harry, I'll get back! For you, I'll get back." She promised. She had to help him, no matter what.

* * *

"Don't worry, Harry, I'll get back! For you, I'll get back."

The words hit Draco like a pile of bricks. Of course. Hermione wasn't in love with Weasley. She loved Potter. It was obvious. How could she not fall for the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One? And how could Draco possibly compete with him? That four-eyes was just as handsome and rich as Draco, and twice as famous. Mrs Hermione Potter. Damn, it even sounded good! Suddenly, Draco didn't feel so hungry. In fact, he felt as if he was going to throw up. All he wanted to do was curl up into bed again. His mood was only worsened when Scarhead turned to look at him; his eyes staring into Draco's very soul. They seemed to say an unspoken challenge: 'Just try to take her from me. She's already mine, fool!'. Unable to stand it, Draco ran.

He wasn't sure of his destination until he stopped in front of a bathroom sink. He stared at his face in the mirror, and for the first time this year he actually saw the man who stared back. He saw just how big the bags were under his eyes, and realised how tired he truly was. He saw the faint wrinkles that were beginning to form on his forehead, and realised how stressed he had been this year. And he saw the emotions that swirled around in his eyes like a tropical storm. Worry for his mother's fate, apprehension at his task, the fear of failing, the regret of getting both Hermione and Katie Bell involved. There was also the despair that came with knowing that Hermione was in love with Potter; that she would never love somebody as evil and pathetic as him.

"I know what you did, Malfoy." Draco hadn't realised he was crying until he had to hide the flow of his tears from the person that had followed him. "You hexed her, didn't you? Katie Bell?"

"Shut up." Draco muttered, trying to compose himself. His voice rose. "You have no idea what I've been through this year. You don't know how I'm feeling. So don't judge me! You've had it easy!"

"Easy? Both my parents are dead!"

"Stop throwing that excuse around! We know. Everybody knows about the night you killed You-Know-Who, Potter! But here's news for you, Potter: you didn't know them. And you've always had to live without them. Me? If my parents die? I'm suddenly on my own, with no help and Potter, I am not very independent. I have the constant fear that one day, a black owl will swoop down for me at breakfast, and you have  _no idea how it feels_! Sure, you had it rough in your childhood, but ever since you stepped on that train you've had it made!" Potter just looked at him, those taunting green eyes tearing right through Draco's soul. "While I… While I…"  _While my ideals are falling around me and my life is falling apart._

"You think I've not felt that fear? Well we might not be related by blood, but I know who my family is. The Weasleys are my family. Hermione is my family! And when she went missing… You have no idea how I felt when I realised that I might never see her alive again! She's like a sister to me…"

_Well, obviously she thinks of you as something more!_  Draco screamed in his head and shot a jinx at the arrogant Gryffindor.

Within minutes, chaos reigned in the bathroom. Jets of multi-coloured lights were streaming across the bathroom as the two sixth years ducked behind fallen pieces of stone and ceramic. Toilets and falls were dented, taps were broken, and water was soaking the both of them through. Despite their surroundings, they were more-or-less evenly matched, since they had been taught the same spells, and were using them. That is, until Harry recalled a note from his textbook:  _Sectumsempra- for enemies_.

* * *

Meanwhile, and around half an hour before, Hermione had been following Harry. However, she had lost him at a particularly sharp turn where she had stopped to avoid a second year Hufflepuff out of habit and instinct, before recalling that he would just have walked through her. Frankly, she was getting worried about what would happen if the two boys began to fight. Harry was a good duelist, there was no denying that, but who knew what kind of spells Draco had been taught by his father? Would the Slytherin be stupid, or malignant enough to cast an Unforgivable? And what about Harry? Hermione recalled about how Harry's new potions textbook had had many spells written in the margins- what if he used one of them on Draco?! He had no idea what any of them were, they could be equally as dangerous as an Unforgivable... or more!

Dread filled her, and she doubled her speed. She rushed through the halls, dashing through any students who got in her way. They shivered as she passed. As she approached the second floor bathroom, a jet of white light slammed through her chest. Snape was at the opposite end of the corridor; he had seen the spell too. Both of them rushed into the bathroom.

* * *

Harry waved his wand. " _Sectumsempra!"_

Draco began to cast a quick blocking charm, before he noticed Hermione near the entrance. For a split second, he froze. And, in a duel like this one, a split second was all it took. Hermione gave a heart-wrenching scream as Draco was thrown back against the wall from the sheer force of the spell. She ran to him, but was unable to help, and watched powerlessly as deep gashes formed rapidly on his body. Crimson red mixed with the water on the floor.

"Draco! No… No, no, no, _no_ … Help him!" She begged Snape, who had swept into the room like a bat behind her and glided to Draco's body. In her desperation, she had forgotten nobody could see or hear her apart from the boy lying all but dead at her feet. Still, Snape bent down and began chanting a healing charm. Harry slinked away silently; nobody saw him leave.

Even though Hermione knew Snape was healing Draco, and that everything would be fine, she was still hyperventilating. Scenarios of Draco's death and his funeral spun through her mind, and she was openly crying at the normally guarded boys' vulnerable form.

It was strange. Her worry for Draco was twice the amount she had felt for Ron, even though she knew Draco was going to be okay, whereas when Ron was poisoned nobody knew what the outcome would be.  She didn't think she could bear a life without Draco, and not just because without him she would be alone, like this, forever.

As Draco's wounds were cleansed, and other teachers arrived to help take Draco to the Hospital Wing, Hermione questioned one thing: Did this mean that she liked Draco more than she did Ron? Did she... love Draco Malfoy?


	17. The Beginning of the End

" _You always get apprehensive before you do shoots._ " ~Jenna Morasca

* * *

When Draco woke up, the full moon was shining down on the Hospital Wing, and Hermione was sat next to his bed, staring into space. He groaned softly upon waking; his entire body felt as though it was on fire. As soon as she heard his voice, Hermione jumped forward and hugged him. Draco would have hugged her back, if he could have. Of course, his hands would have just gone through her, and it hurt too much to move. So he just smiled.

"Oh Godric, Draco, I was so worried!" Hermione wailed. "There was blood everywhere; I thought you were going to bleed to death on the bathroom floor, and that's a horrible idea!"

"Urgh, you sound like my mother." Draco grumbled, secretly happy beneath his annoyed demeanour. She'd been worried about him.

"Well excuse me for caring if you die." Hermione pouted, and moved away from him. "Next time I won't bother." He shook his head at her, grinning. "Snape came, by the way. He left a letter by your bedside. It's open; I think he read it." Hermione pointed to a folded piece of parchment that lay on his bedside table. Draco scowled as he imagined Snapes' greasy fingers skimming the words that may be on it. There was no way he could hide his mission from the professor now. He picked it up, and looked it over. As he read, he was filled with an icy dread.

_Draco,_

_The Dark Lord grows impatient. We know the Vanishing Cabinet is complete- Borgin had to shoot the damn bird with a Stunning Hex just to shut it up. If you haven't completed your task by the end of this month, you will be classed as a failure; no better than your father. That is why I have organised for a select few of the Death Eaters to come with me through the Vanishing Cabinet on Friday. While the rest of the school is occupied with us, you will cast the Killing Curse on Dumbledore._

_Do not disappoint the Dark Lord, Draco. He has great plans for you._

_Aunt Bellatrix._

"What does it say, Draco?" Hermione asked, startling the boy, who had been lost in concentration for the last few minutes.

"My Aunt is coming on Friday." He managed to choke out. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Bellatrix?" There was silence for a few seconds. "Well, that doesn't give us much time to prepare! We'll need to find a way to get Professor Dumbledore alone…"

"Not we." Draco cut her off. He took a deep breath of cold air. "Hermione, I appreciate you help, but this time I'm going to refuse. You shouldn't be helping me with this. Letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts is one thing, but assisting with the assassination of Dumbledore? You'd get weighed down with guilt."

"Well, obviously it's wrong, but you can't do it alone! You aren't some heartless, killing machine. I want to help, Draco-"

"I can't let you. I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean for you to be so involved with this, but you can't help me now." Draco said, metaphorically putting his foot down.

"What else am I meant to do?" She shrieked, her voice breaking. "There's nothing for me to do. Nobody can see me but you; I could go read every book in the library, but I wouldn't be able to concentrate, wondering what you're doing, and if you're okay! Because over the past year I have really grown to care for you. I feel as though my life would be shattered f you got hurt!"

"Hermione..." Draco exhaled. "That is possibly the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me." He took a shaky breath. "That's why I can't let you help me. It wouldn't be fair of me to make you watch the Headmaster die in front of you. Especially when you wouldn't be able to do anything about it." Hermione looked as though she was going to protest, but he cut her off. "You can leave Hogwarts, right? I need you to go to Malfoy Manor, and find Gibbons' body for me. Then, at the end of the year we will stab it- and Gibbon will die, but your body will remain unharmed and soul less."

"Then I can go back to my body?" Hermione clarified, her expression changing to joy.

"Exactly. So, my idea is that I handle everything here, and you can go look for his body. It would save a lot of time." Draco told her, and she eagerly nodded. The thought of her being back in her own body was so exciting! She decided to get to work straight away- the sooner she found Gibbon's body, the sooner she could return to hers. She reached, forward and kissed Dracos' cheek, bidding him farewell before disappearing into the night.

Draco slowly reached up and caressed his, now rosy cheek. "She kissed me."

"Mr Malfoy? Ah, you're awake." Madame Pomfrey appeared in the doorway and hurried to his bedside, to administrate his medication for him. "How are you feeling?"

"On top of the world."

* * *

It had been half a week since Hermione had kissed him, and she still hadn't returned from Malfoy Manor. Draco half-regretted sending her there; it was a large house and easy for one to get lost in, if they hadn't spent a lot of time there. However, he had bigger fish to fry. It was Friday, and Dumbledore wasn't in Hogwarts. Draco was sure he would be back soon, though. He was still in the Hospital Wing, however he had finally been able to walk without the fear of breaking his stitches. It was a simple task he had facing him; walk up to the Room of Requirement. What was bothering him was what would happen afterwards.

The hallways were as silent and cold as a grave. Upon his Aunts' instruction, he had put on his finest suit, and his dress shoes made hollow taps on the flagstones. His face was a mask, now, that hid his fear. If all went well this time, he would literally have a mask that would hide his face and emotions. Too soon, the wooden door materialised from the wall, and too soon he was stood before the Vanishing Cabinet as Death Eater after Death Eater waltzed into the room.

"Good evening, Aunt." Draco said to Bellatrix. The air around her felt as frigid as ice.

"What a dump." Bellatrix observed as she look around the large, junk-filled room. "So, where's Dumbledore?"

"He's… out." Draco admitted, and cries of outrage filled the room. "But don't worry. He has contacts in Hogsmeade, who are sure to notify him if they see something amiss in the castle."

"Ah, such as the Dark Mark?" His Aunt gazed at him calculatingly, like a snake sizing up its prey.

"If we cast it over the Astronomy Tower- there aren't any classes tonight, I've checked- it will be visible from even the edge of Hogsmeade. He will be drawn to the tower, like a moth to a flame."

"And then you kill him!" Bellatrix clapped her hands like a gleeful child. "And nothing will stand in our Lord's path to righteousness!"

They made their way to the Astronomy Tower as silent as ghosts. The comparison made him think of Hermione, and Draco hurriedly pushed her out of his mind. Tonight was too important for him to screw it up with his feelings. The Dark Lord had no need for them. When they reached their destination, the wind blowing roughly around them like a barrier, his Aunt gave him 'the honour' of casting the Dark Mark. As the spine-chilling mirage lifted into the thick evening air, it lit up the sky so bright that one could fool themselves it was daytime. Draco gave an audible gasp of apprehension, as all the Death Eaters left to deal with whoever tried to get into the Tower.

Now, all there was to do was wait.


	18. The Death of Albus Dumbledore

" _I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure._ " ~Clarence Darrow

* * *

Hermione Granger was feeling fed-up. She'd been searching Malfoy Manor for almost a week now, and she still hadn't found a trace of Gibbon's body; it was quite demotivating. She had searched through the humongous building twice, to no avail. There had to be something she was missing- perhaps they had a basement, an attic, a secret room behind a bookcase? She faintly recalled Harry begging Arthur Weasley about a dining room, or drawing room over Christmas, but she'd passed them both twice, and had never noticed anything out of the ordinary. The Ministry hadn't either, she supposed. But she trusted Harry; perhaps there _was_ something below the slate flooring of the drawing room? Beaming at her theory, she hurriedly floated to the drawing room, and attempted to go underneath it.

Upon reflection, Hermione wasn't really surprised to find a cellar there. There were no windows, nor light of any kind, and it took Hermione a few seconds to adjust her eyes to the blinding darkness. The room was dreary, and drab, which contrasted with the rest of the manor. The ceiling was held up with multiple large stone cylinders, and the floor was made of the same stone as the room above her. At one end of the large chamber, there were stairs leading upstairs, and next to it an extravagant fireplace that would be gigantic enough to warm most of the room, if it had been lit. The ceiling was emblazoned with intricate designs Hermione couldn't quite make out, and in the center of the room a body had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor.  _That has to be Gibbon!_  Hermione thought with a squeal.

He wasn't pretty; that was obvious from first glance. He was chubby, had a greasy face and a fat nose. His brown hair was grey with dust and so ratty Hermione wasn't sure if the most skilled of magical hairdressers could tame it. It seemed as though he'd never brushed his teeth a day in his life, and it was clear that nobody had bothered to wash his body since he'd abandoned it during the Winter Holidays.

Still, Hermione was overjoyed. Now that she'd found Gibbon's body, it was just a hop, skip and a jump to the end of all this. She briefly wondered if she should go back to Hogwarts, now that she'd found Gibbon. Draco had wanted to keep her out of the way, that had been obvious, but she was sure she could be of some help to him, even if it was just a little bit. Besides, she had to protect Gibbon from any harm that could befall him! She despised the bastard, but she understood the consequences of her body getting harmed, and she loathed the idea of losing her body.

Mind made up, she rose from the basement and began her trek out of the house. However, she stopped upon hearing the voice of Snape, who seemed to be talking to a frantic female voice. Her curiosity piqued, she walked quickly to the study and placed her ear on the door silently… before remembering that nobody could see her anyway, and she could go in.

The woman in the room was, without a doubt, Draco's mother; she looked exactly like him, if not a bit more feminine and expressionate. She was kneeling on the floor, and talking into the glowing embers of a fireplace. Snape's face was etched into the grate; they were having a hurried conversation through the Floo Network.

"I'm just so worried for him, Severus. Tonight is the night: he's going to kill Dumbledore. Do you know how?" She whispered to him.

"Yes." Snape drawled. "I read the letter your sister sent to him. He is to…"

"An Unforgivable, Severus!" She wailed, effectively cutting off his sentence. "How can my little boy cast something so horrible as the Killing Curse?"

"Avada Kedavra?" Hermione gasped out loud; it wasn't as if anybody could hear her anyway. "That's how he's going to…" Why hadn't he told her? They could have figured out an alternative! Something so horrible…  _it could drive him crazy…_

"It will drive him crazy!"  _It would break him…_ "It would shatter any of his remaining innocence!" Draco's mother shot Snape a desperate look. "Please, Severus, cast the curse in his place!"

"The Dark Lord…"

"I don't give a rats arse about the Dark Lord!" Draco's mother shrieked, before gasping and covering her mouth. Her face was the epitome of terror. She got up and slowly made her way to the door, peeking outside to look around the hallway. When she was sure the coast was clear, and that nobody had heard her, she returned to the fire, somewhat subdued. "My husband is in Azkaban because of that man. My son will murder because of that man. I despise him. My loyalty is not to him, but to my family. Dark Lord or no Dark Lord, Draco shouldn't become a killer before he is even an adult!" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Please, cast the curse instead."

Hermione had heard enough. She couldn't let Draco do this! She had turned a blind eye to his previous schemes, but this was too much; it was just too… too  _final_. She was going to Hogwarts, and she was going to stop Draco from making the biggest mistake of his life.

* * *

"Good evening Draco." Dumbledore spoke calmly as Draco walked further into the room the old man was in. Immediately, Draco saw the second broom.

"Who else is here?"

"A question I might ask you. Or are acting alone?" Dumbledore looked up to the Dark Mark that was floating ominously in the sky, and then back at Draco.

"There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight."

* * *

Hermione hardly took a pause to breathe as she darted through the school, hardly noticing the fighting people around her. All she knew was that she had to get to the Astronomy Tower. As she neared, she heard two voices, each sounding desperate in very different ways.

"I can help you, Draco."

"No you can't." Draco's voice was shaking. "Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice!"

"Draco!" Hermione yelled as she literally tumbled into the room. "Listen to yourself! Of course you have a choice; you don't have to do this!"

"Come on over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine." Dumbledore told Draco. "What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her likewise."

"Listen to him, Draco! Dumbledore knows what he's talking about, you don't have to become a murderer!" Draco didn't spare Hermione a second glance.

"But I got this far, didn't I?" He said slowly, as if he was convincing himself. "They thought I'd die in the attempt, but I'm here… and you're in my power. I'm the one with the wand… you're at my mercy."

"No, Draco," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now."

"Please listen to him, Draco." Hermione pleaded, quieter now. "When I was in Malfoy Manor, I overheard your mother. She's worried about you. She's already lost her husband to Voldemort, don't make her loose her son as well! This year I've really gotten to know you, better than I could have had circumstances been different, and this isn't the you I know now. It's the you I knew when you were just the boy who laughed at me, not the person who… who… I promise, we'll find a way to keep you safe. If I can get back to my body, you can defy those twisted orders that have been placed on you. It doesn't have to be this way, Draco!" Draco's wand hand dropped a fraction, and suddenly Hermione could see a future, a perfect future for all of them.

Draco and his mother would be hid in Grimmauld Place during the Wizarding War- it was still hidden, so it would be the perfect place. They would help the Order, even though many of the others wouldn't be very trusting of them at first. And she and Draco could… could what, exactly? What did she want from him?

Lost amongst her thoughts of a possible future for Draco,  _with_  Draco, Hermione didn't notice the other Death Eaters coming in, and was only pulled back to reality when she heard somebody say something.

"We've got a problem, Snape, the boy doesn't seem able…"

"Severus…" Draco was stood next to Hermione, there were other Death Eaters in the room, and Snape was in front of Dumbledore, gazing at him with what seemed to be revulsion and hatred. "Severus… Please…" Snape raised his wand.

"Wait… He's not going to really… is he?" Hermione gasped, not able to move from shock.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

Hermione didn't dare to look as the curse hit Dumbledore square in the chest and was blasted in the air, over the battlements, and into the darkness.


	19. Revealed

" _Circumstances to not make the man, they reveal him._ " ~James Allen

* * *

Draco stood still, barely blinking, barely breathing, until he was torn from his spot, pulled by the scruff of his neck by Snape. Hermione wanted to go after them, but she was numb with shock. As the other Death Eaters filtered out of the room, Hermione heard a swishing sound and turned around. To her surprise, the Invisibility Cloak fell off of her best friend. Harry shot a curse at the last Death Eater.

"Harry! You were there all along?! Why didn't you do anything?" Hermione asked, her face stained with tears she didn't remember crying. Harry, of course, didn't answer, oblivious. He sprinted out of the room and down the stairs. Hermione frowned, and followed.

The hallway below was damp, dark and void of life as the student and the spectre rushed down the hallway. At the end of the corridor was a doorway, and as Harry and Hermione neared it, it was flung open. Preventing their advancement was Gibbon.

"Hermione!" Harry cried, grabbing Gibbon. "What's been going on down there?"

"Harry, is it true? Is Dumbledore is dead?" Gibbon asked, his voice somewhat breaking with mock fear. Solemnly and seemingly trying not to cry, Harry nodded his head.

There was a pause before Gibbon burst out laughing; he threw Hermione's head back as he let out a maniacal eruption of euphoria. Confused and afraid, Harry took a step back. "Finally!" Gibbon breathed, his voice suddenly hard and cruel, much more befitting a Death Eater than a Gryffindor bookworm. "You don't know how long I have been waiting for this moment, Potter!" He spat the name, and Harry winced.

"Hermione…"

"I'm glad this charade is over. I can't stand to be in this girls body any longer! I suggested Bellatrix or Alecto Carrow do the job, but  _no_. It had to be me. Do you know how much these period cramps  _hurt_? I've been having them  _every_  month, no wonder Lestrange is so mad all the time. But it was worth it, for the information I've gathered. The Dark Lord will be very interested in this map of Hogwarts you have."

"Hermione, what are you talking about?" Harry asked, his voice trembling.

"Don't you get it, brat? I'm not that Mudblood, I've just taken over her body! She hasn't been here at all this year, it was just me, me, me, gathering information from your trusting, naïve lips. The Dark Lord will be all too pleased to learn all I've discovered!" Gibbon ranted, sounding less and less like Hermione with each word.

"You… You bastard!" Harry yelled, lunging forward. Gibbon side-stepped, chuckling darkly.

"You wouldn't want to do that, boy. I may not be Granger, but this body is still hers, and anything you do to me, you do to the Mudblood as well." Harry's eyes blazed with fury. "And if you kill me, you'll never see her again!" The Death Eater laughed. "So you have no choice but to watch me do whatever I want!"

"I don't care about the pain, Harry," Hermione growled, "curse him with everything you have!"

"I could kill you here and now, and you wouldn't be able to do anything, for fear of hurting your best friend! What's more, I'd be doing it with her wand! Of course, it's not behaved for me, I guess it knows I'm not the Mudblood, yet it will do." Gibbon rolled his eyes. "...But it is the Dark Lord's privilege to kill you, not mine. So I shall settle for torturing you until you turn insane!"

Gibbon raised Hermione's wand, and the ghost realised she'd never felt so helpless in her life. There was nothing she could do to stop him…. Or was there? Gibbon had pretty much said that her wand didn't recognise him as its owner. Would it recognise Hermione? If Hermione said another spell, would the wand cast her wand instead of Gibbons? It was a badly thought out theory, but it was the best shot she had. Quickly, Hermione ran through the lot of spells she had learnt, for one that would help her. If she said a harmless charm, would Gibbon get afraid and balk?

Gibbon yelled out an Unforgivable. Hermione lunged forward for her wand, and spoke a simple spell they'd learnt in First Year, the charm that had gotten her her first friends.

Gibbon, of course, was very confused when, instead of Harry collapsing and screaming in pain, began to float, and the only sound that escaped his lips was the audible gasp of surprise.

"What?" Gibbon swore, as he shook the wand.

"It's levi- _o -_ sa, not levio- _sa_." Harry murmured, before looking around wildly. "Hermione?"

"Don't worry, Harry, I won't let him hurt you." Hermione promised, keeping her grip on the wand. No matter how many times Gibbon tried to re-cast the Cruciatus curse, Harry never moved from his spot above the center of the room.

"Accursed thing!" He snapped, throwing the magical twig on the floor. Harry dropped to the ground with the grace of a person who had been flying for six years. "I don't know what happened today brat, but I will never forgive you for it. And one day, you will regret it." With that, he turned and stalked out of the hallway, out of the school grounds, and into the English countryside.

It took Harry a couple of moments to collect himself before he bent over and picked up the fallen wand.

"Hermione… No matter what it takes, I will find you." Harry vowed, determination in his voice and glowing in his eyes. "I won't let your nightmare continue any longer." The ghost beamed at him as he placed her wand in his pocket for safekeeping. _I know you will, Harry._ Then, Hermione faded away to find Draco.

* * *

Draco was sat in Snape's office, staring at the dark, stone wall when Hermione found him. He felt so surreal, like nothing around him was real. The moment replayed over and over in his head- the green light hitting Dumbledore's chest, the old man flying over the stone battlements, into the darkness, his lifeless blue eyes connecting with Draco's for a split second that seemed to last for eons.

"Draco!" The blond blinked. Somebody was calling him. Someone… "Draco?" Hermione.

"Hermione?" He blinked again, and Dumbledore was gone. Hermione was there instead, floating in a sitting position a couple of inches above the floor. She looked up at him with worried brown eyes.

"Are you okay? You seem distant." She said. He shook his head in reply.

"After everything is over, Snape's coming back. He'll be bringing Floo Powder." Draco didn't like how his voice sounded. It was too thick. "I'm going home."

"Gibbon revealed himself to Harry."

"So Potter isn't going to trust you anymore?" Draco could hear the venom in his voice; it clashed against the empty mood he felt.

"I hope he will. I want our friendship to continue; he's like a brother to me." Draco almost cracked a smile at that; at least he knew now that Hermione wasn't in love with the Pothead. Not that it really mattered. "Gibbon's body is below your drawing room." He nodded stiffly. He noticed belatedly that she'd moved to sit beside him. "You didn't answer my question, Draco. Are you alright?"

"Even though I didn't kill him," Draco took a deep breath. "I feel… responsible."

"Did you see his hand?" Hermione patted his neck sympathetically. "It was cursed. He was dying anyway; I bet Snape just sped up the process." Draco looked at her with vacant eyes. "I don't expect you to believe that, but it's what I saw.

"Give me a bit of time, Hermione… I promise you'll be back in your body by August."

"Take all the time you need, Draco. I'll still be here."


	20. Waking Up

" _I love that feeling of being in love, the effect of having butterflies when you wake up in the morning. That is special._ " ~Jennifer Aniston

* * *

"Wizard God, he stinks." Draco complained, holding his nose as he and Hermione stood in front of Gibbon's slowly rotting body.

"Um, do you want to suffocate him with a pillow, or…" Hermione let the question hang in the air awkwardly, unwilling to say the curse out loud.

"No, I can do it." Draco confirmed, pulling a dagger from his pocket. His hand shook slightly as he leant over and stabbed Gibbon in the chest. Draco quickly stood back up, and stood there for a minute, his mind dashing back to  _that_  night two weeks ago. He shivered slightly, feeling the coldness of that nights' air up on the Astronomy Tower. Seeing his expression, Hermione was beside him in an instant.

"Draco? Sit down for a second, if you aren't feeling too good." She advised.

"I don't need you to coddle me, Hermione." Draco snapped harshly, but his voice shook. He would never admit it, but Dumbledore's death had shaken him. Hermione and his mother had been very sympathetic, but that didn't help him at all. He just wanted to forget that that night had ever happened; how could he do that when he was reminded of it at every turn? When the two women didn't even give him space to breathe? He took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Okay Draco." Hermione smiled at him; though it was meant with the best intentions it seemed patronising to the blond. "Now what do we do?"

"I think there's a spell in the book that can help us find your body." Draco replied, and began to lead Hermione back to his room. He was glad to leave the stinking dungeon that held Gibbons now lifeless corpse.

The house was full of Death Eaters, which was to be expected now that the Dark Lord had made Malfoy Manor his Headquarters. Some of them wore their masks, some of them didn't, and Draco didn't know which was worse: seeing their ugly, leering faces, or trying to figure out what expression they were sporting behind the cold metal. As he walked through the halls, he kept his head down to avoid their gazes. Though the journey to his room was quick, it dragged by as the ever-present fear of Voldemort appearing in the hallways loomed its ugly head. It was unnerving, seeing Voldemort walking around in his house as if he owned the place. To see him pass in the morning, weary-eyed, in the direction of the bathroom with a towel, or to sit near to him at lunch-time as he ate a ham and cheese toasted sandwich, was extremely awkward, like seeing your teacher at the supermarket over the weekend buying a French baguette.

It was for that reason Draco always breathed a sigh of relief when he got to his room, which he had deemed a sanctuary. Nobody really came to his room, besides his mother and the house elves, and they all knocked before entering, so it was always a place where he and Hermione could converse freely without the Death Eaters looking at him as if he were the crazy one. It had become the tradition that when they entered the room, one of them would flop onto his bed and groan into his collection of hippogriff-feathered pillows. This time, Hermione was the one to dive into the fluff, murmuring in content. Draco couldn't help but hold back a smile at her cute action; besides, it wasn't as if she could see him do it, face pressed downwards into the pillow. He sat down next to her, and picked up the book that had helped them so much off the bedside table. They had been lucky enough to find a copy in the Malfoys' library- upon entering the room for the first time Hermione had literally jumped for joy and tackled the bookcases. She had refused to leave until she had looked at every single book cover, much to Draco's amusement and annoyance.

Draco smiled at the memory, and opened the book. Hermione rolled over to see what it said, and both of them were painfully aware of how close they were to each other. Draco leafed through the book, placing all of his attention towards it, instead of towards the brunette, before stopping and reading a passage that caught his eye.

"Hermione…" He began slowly, before pausing.

"Yes?" Her voice was curious and light, and Draco couldn't help but think how adorable it sounded.

"The spell's never been used before, or so records say… It could be dangerous." Draco warned. Hermione nodded solemnly. "If you feel anything wrong, tell me immediately. The author wrote down the counter curse, and it shouldn't be too drastic since we don't have your body, but still, just in case…"

"It's okay, Draco. It'll be fine." She stood up. "Cast away." The blond took one final glance at the worn page to check, and waved his wand in the correct formation.

" _Búscate_ "

Draco felt a sharp sting fly up the nerves of his arm, and he fell back onto his bed, unconscious.

* * *

"Draco, Draco." He was awoken by an urgent shaking. He blearily opened his eyes just as Snape stepped away from him. His mother was sat on a chair beside his bed, and she flung herself at him when he groaned softly.

"Oh, Draco! I was so worried!" She wailed. "I heard a thump coming from your room and when I came to look you were unconscious- I thought you'd died or fallen into a coma, and that's a horrible idea!"

"Mum." Draco moaned in annoyance.

From the middle of the room, Hermione groaned in embarrassment. "I really did sound like your mother back then, didn't I?" She seemed worried. "I'm sorry, Draco. I didn't consider the consequences the spell could have had on you."

Draco shook his head. "It wasn't your fault."

"Oh, darling, I know that, but I was just so worried about you. I don't want to lose both my boys." When she finally pulled away, she composed herself. "I'll go have a house elf make some soup for you, that will help you feel better." She stood, and glided out of the room with as much grace as a phoenix. Once she had left, Draco followed Snape's gaze to the book that now lay on the ground.

"Draco…" Snape began, but Draco cut him off.

"It's just a bit of light reading, okay?" He snapped. "It's nothing."

"Can you…" Snape began to say something else, before lowering his voice to something Draco couldn't quite make out until the end. "… isn't possible…. What made you think to read this book?"

"I told you, it's nothing!" Draco answered, more harshly than before. "It caught my eye in the library and thought it would be a good read." Snape shook his head, but didn't push him. Instead, he stood, and picked the book up from the floor, and placed it in Draco's lap.

"You shouldn't mess with spells that aren't Ministry-Approved, Draco." Snape warned, then left the room.

"Do you think he knows?" Hermione asked, floating over to Draco and sitting next to him. Her eyes were full of concern.

"Of course he knows, he's the one who cursed you. I don't think he realises I can see you, though." Draco admitted, placing his hand on the bed. As if on cue, Hermione rested hers on top. Little actions like this were as much as the two could manage in Hermione's current state, but it was enough to make Draco feel like they shared something more than friendship. "All that, for a spell that doesn't even work."

"But it did work, Draco." Hermione replied, giving him an encouraging smile. "I have this feeling in my gut; telling me where to go!"

"Could that feeling be indigestion?"

"I can't eat, idiot. It has to be the spell, leading me towards my body." Hermione insisted, nodding her head for emphasis.

"Well, okay then. We should get going straight away." Draco decided, reluctantly standing up. Hermione frowned.

"Are you sure we should? You just woke up, you could have a concussion!" Hermione fretted, and Draco rolled his eyes. Her concern was touching, really, but surely she wanted to get back to her body before somebody else found it.

" _Hermione._ "

When a House Elf came to Draco's room with a hot bowl of broccoli and stilton soup, it found the room completely empty; much to the distress of Narcissa Malfoy.

* * *

Around an hour later, Draco and Hermione had reached a small Muggle village. It was late in the afternoon, and the sky was beginning to cloud over.

"Do we have to be  _here_?" Draco asked, glaring at the obviously Muggle buildings. "Are you sure your body isn't in, say, a Wizarding village?"

"Draco, quit being such an elitist." Hermione laughed. "I'm sure. Look, all you have to do is walk in and ask if they've seen my body."

"But they're  _Muggles_." Draco complained, as if that explained everything. Hermione fixed him with a hard glare until he cracked, groaning. "Fine. But you owe me for this." He walked into the center of the village, being careful not to touch anything.

It was an extremely quiet village, the town center only having a small tea shop, a butchers, and a grocers' there. A small, hunched over lady was locking the faded and cracked white door of the tea shop. When she turned around, she jumped to see a strangely dressed young man stood not so far away from her, staring at her with unnerving, serious blue-grey eyes.

"Oh! Oh dear, you almost gave me a heart attack!" She chuckled lightly, giving him a wrinkled smile. "Are you okay? Do you need directions, or anything?"

"Uh…" The boy looked to his left and muttered something to himself, before speaking up. "I'm looking for a girl. Short, chubby face, brown, frizzy hair…" He stumbled as if somebody had pushed him. The old woman gasped.

"Oh! Come, come." She gestured with her worn hand, hobbling as quickly as she could towards a small cottage near the edge of the village. "We found her just this morning, asleep by the edge of the wood, peaceful as can be, love her. She's unconscious, but still breathing. She's created quite a buzz in the village; we don't really connect with the outside world a lot, so this is the first exciting thing to happen for us since the Queens' Coronation! Are you a friend of hers?"

"I suppose you could say that." He nodded, looking off into the distance as he adjusted his pace.

"And have you been looking for her long?" When he didn't answer, the old woman looked over to him, but all he did was give her a small, secret smile.

The cottage was indeed small, honeysuckle crawling up the stone walls. The roof was a golden tangle of straw and the door was freshly painted light blue. The windows were clean. Inside was newly furnished, Draco discovered, when a lady in her early twenties ushered them in.

Hermione was laid on a single bed in a small bedroom. Her eyes were closed and her face was peaceful; she could have been sleeping. Her brown hair was spread out like a halo on the cream pillow. Draco's eyes softened at her form, and he sat down in an armchair next to her body. At some point, Gibbon had ditched the school robes for something he must have thought less conspicuous; over-sized black, casual robes.

"Were you out for a fancy dress party or something, love?" The young lady asked with a slight cockney accent. "You match."

"Uh… Yeah."" Draco nodded. Though Hermione had advised him to, he had refused point blank to put on Muggle clothes. He looked towards Hermione's soul; she was stood at the end of the bed, looking apprehensively at her empty vessel.

"What if my body doesn't accept me?" She whispered. "What if I'll be stuck like this forever?"

Draco wanted to comfort her, but he knew that if he said anything, the two Muggles that were watching him intently would think he was crazy. She he learnt forward, and placed his hand over hers. Her body was cold. "Hermione?"

The two women excused themselves, deciding to give the two a moment of privacy. Hermione's soul walked around the bed, and lay herself down over her body. Slowly, her ghostly form sank into her figure, and a golden glow filled the room. When it faded, only one Hermione remained. She was still asleep, her chest rising up and down slowly, with a serene smile painted on her lips.

"Hermione… It's time to wake up." Draco crooned softly, and slowly the young witch opened her eyes. They sparkled with mirth, and Draco found them almost hypnotising. As if pulled by a cord, he leant forward and connected his lips with hers.

He could have sworn that sparks flew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original version up on ff.net, Draco was meant to kill Gibbon with Avada Kedavra, but I feel like he wouldn't be able to use the curse so soon after Dumbledore's death (or ever, really, considering canon), so I changed it to stabbing.


End file.
